The Guardian
by TheWomanWhoCodesAndWrites
Summary: We all know the story of the volunteer Katniss, her beloved sister Prim, her best friend Gale, and her ray of hope Peeta. What would have been, had there been another volunteer, another little sibling, another best friend, and another ray of hope? Would there still be a rebellion, and how would it pan out? A multi-character-switch AU, from the eyes of "the best friend". For Trovia.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

She is usually an expert in saying "no" and refusing things.

But, no, not today.

Sitting under her armchair, on the floor, are these three young rascals. All eighteen years of age though, _thank heavens, _not triplets. All related though not siblings. Born to three different couples from two different generations, all related through Maternal Line - the stronger line, according to her people's belief.

"So," the dark haired one - a tall, slender girl - restates. "Can we write about _you _for this assignment?"

As if cued, the two others look up at her pleadingly. Armed with voice recorders and those small computers the spoiled children of The Republic of Panem carry everywhere, they are more than ready for her to start the story. She can see the giddiness in the second girl's huge grin, in the bounce of the strawberry blonde ponytail. She can see the excitement in the grey eyes of the blonde boy, which he inherits from his grandfather. And, heavens, she's a goner. Who would've guessed that these three youngsters will be her weakness, one day?

"Why don't you ask your father instead?" she asks the boy. "He's the best public speaker of us all."

"Dad said he was a kid when it all happened," the boy answers, cocking his head at her. "You're older, so he thought you know more."

"Yes, older," she responds tiredly. "One and a half year older. And your father was a twenty year old kid, for your record. It's all excuses, Dough. Excuses. He's good in them, that one."

Dough, of course, isn't the boy's real name. She just likes giving them all - and all other people - nicknames. And what nickname will be more fitting than that one, for a baker's son, really?

"Pink," she then shifts to the strawberry blonde - whose hair used to look pink as a young girl. "Your other grandfather. The one who isn't married to me. How about him?"

"Busy with my other grandma," the girl answers. "The one who's not you."

"Fair enough," she says, shaking her head. "Where's my sister, in the midst of this?"

The blonde boy looks at her in horror.

"You want us to ask my Mom?" he asks. "My _Mom_?"

"You'd rather ask my other sister?"

Now, that actually hurts a little. She stops and looks outside her window, drawing a deep breath. Decades later, she can still remember it all.

"Tell us the story, Mama," the dark-haired girl, the one who resembles her the most, speaks up. "I can see it in your eyes. Memories. How did it all start? What actually happened? How you all ended up in it?"

Yes. How did it all start? What actually happened? How they all ended up _there_?

She snorts as she realizes when it all actually started.

"Alright, you overgrown babies," she tells them, throwing her head back. "Listen carefully. It all started with a Sunday excursion. A boating excursion to the Mainland."


	2. Part I, Chapter I

**Part One - Children of The Islands**

**Chapter One: Abraham's Daughter**

Roosters. Noisy, crooning, infuriating roosters.

Johanna let out a small cuss under her breath as she shimmied around her little sisters' sleeping forms. The morning had come again. It was again time to wake up. Time to get away from these sweet dreams of being mighty superheroines who saved the earth, and walk straight into yet another day in The Islands.

"You lucky little brats," she murmured grumpily to the younger girls. "Sleep when you can."

Some stirring, and a contented sigh from the baby. Looked like they were indeed very asleep.

With a sigh of her own, Johanna swung her legs off the bottom of the bed and made that gentle jump down. Landing on two light feet, she missed the covers straight away. Even though The Islands' winter was, to put it like her Uncle Haymitch had, _mild, _it was still winter. A chill in the air, cold morning and evening winds. A temporary hibernation for all the forest animals, and a freezing quality in the water which halted most fishing activities.

The thick pants she wore yesterday were still draped at the back of the chair. Teeth chattering, she slid off her threadbare sleeping pants and pulled the thick ones on, wishing all the way that she was a hibernating animal. Next came the thermal camisole - a luxury item Uncle Haymitch brought home from his last Capitol trip - and the checkered shirt which would soon be passed down to Johanna's middle sister Katniss. The hooded sweater came on top of it all, a final layer of defense against the chill.

"You look just fine, Brainless," Johanna said to herself as she stood in front of the mirror. She wasn't there to admire herself, in all honesty. She was just there to pull her hair up into a high ponytail. The household chores she was about to help her father doing were much better without stray hairs over eyes and in the mouth.

"Jo-Jo...?"

Securing her ponytail with an elastic band, Johanna twisted around to face her sleepy baby sister.

"Yes Prim?" she asked.

"Can I come downstairs with you?"

Johanna grunted.

"No," she answered firmly. "Papa and I will be busy. You stay with Kat here."

Prim looked sad, but didn't ask for more things. Katniss, however, was now awake, a curious eye peering at her sisters.

"Oh, great," Johanna groaned. "Now, both of you are awake."

Katniss met her eyes with an angry glare.

"Here, Prim," the middle sister said, pulling the baby closer. "Let's go back to sleep. Let Old Jo deal with her own chores"

With an eyeroll and a secret gratefulness, Johanna spun around and slipped out of the bedroom, leaving the eight year old and the four year old behind her. At times like this, it was easy to feel much older than her twelve years. Coaxing the kids to let her go do work, fretting for their wellbeing and safety, helping her father with the housework in the morning. That was what she had been doing for three years now, ever since her mother died delivering her stillborn little brother.

Three years.

Three years of not seeing her mother slipping out of that bedroom across from hers, with a kind smile and a special hug for her.

Three years.

Johanna took a deep breath and fanned her cold face, for she knew she couldn't let her father - or sisters - see her tears.

The size of their wooden cottage only allowed for those two bedrooms and a narrow corridor on the upper floor, so the stairs were just some easy steps away. Johanna willed herself to walk there, knowing that her father would be waiting for her help downstairs. He had never let her down, and she was determined not to ever let him down.

Some cold wooden staircases later, she was downstairs in their humble living room. The hot chocolate mugs from last night were still on that small coffee table at the corner between the green couch and the matching armchair. _Mahogany, _she remembered her Uncle Haymitch telling her when he dumped that table - with the couch and the armchair - at their front door.

Uncle Haymitch had always been rich, as far as Johanna remembered. And famous - within The Islands, within their district, and throughout their country, Panem. He was a Victor, winner of the Fiftieth Hunger Games. He was almost never home, always busy doing work in The Capitol. Whenever he was home in District Four, though, he would visit his eldest brother's humble Islands home and give them stuff he didn't want in his lavish Victors' Village house.

"That is _mahogany,_" she recited to herself, chuckling softly, as she picked up the white porcelain mugs - also from Uncle Haymitch - and brought them to the small kitchen where her father was now standing. There was something boiling on the stove and a little bit of sleepiness in Bram Everdeen's eyes. He perked up, though, as his eldest daughter entered the room.

"My Lady Knight!" he greeted Johanna. "Good morning!"

"Morning, Papa," she greeted him back, letting him kiss her head. He had to bend down for that, for he was tall and Johanna favoured her small mother in stature, but he did that with glee and pinched her cheek playfully afterwards.

"You're growing up really fast," he beamed at her afterwards. "Soon, I'll be spending my Saturdays chasing boys off the front door."

"Geez, Papa," Johanna protested, rolling her eyes. "Stop being too nice to me."

Because, he was being too nice. As she glanced at that family picture attached above the sink, Johanna could see how _different _and how _ordinary _she was compared to her sisters. Katniss had their father's dark, exotic looks, olive skin and gray eyes and that bone structure. Prim had their mother's fair beauty, golden hair and bright blue eyes and a face so delicate it looked like a doll's. All that Johanna got from her parents were her father's dark hair and her mother's fair skin, which combined with her grandmother's big brown eyes created such a cringe-worthy oddity.

"I reserve the rights to be worried about my strong girl," her father said, a gentle arm pulling her into a hug. "Finnick told me the other day that The Mayor's boy was asking him questions about you."

"You know Finnick, Papa," Johanna disagreed, mentally making a note to smack her best friend in the head when she saw him. "He's a bluff."

Her father just smiled and hugged her closer. Johanna wished she could say she didn't enjoy his kindness and mollycoddling, but she couldn't. As much as she liked to be strong and tough, she was her Papa's Lady Knight.

"You wanna split some firewood?" Bram asked, once Johanna was done soaking up the affection and now disentangled from him.

"Sounds good," she agreed almost immediately. Johanna never had much eyes and patience for cleaning - or cooking. Cutting firewood and carrying the groceries from the markets were more of her kind of tasks: physical and rough. They all said she was so much like her grandmother, though she couldn't really prove how much of it was true. Her grandmother had passed away years before, when Uncle Haymitch was still a toddler.

"You know where the axe is kept," her father said, turning back to the bubbling thing on the stove. "I'll be here cooking the porridge for a bit, then up at the front sweeping the floor. Just cut enough for the day. It's cold outside."

He sounded both like a father and like a mother just then, and it made Johanna sad. Her father was doing so much. Taking care of them girls, then trading the whole day, and teaching them all things on weekends and at nights. Sometimes she wished her sisters - and herself - would just grow up faster, so that their father could have some time for himself again. He had not really gone out to see his friends since his wife died, too busy being a single parent to his three girls.

"Alright," she decided to not put up a fight. "Back inside soon."

Their firewood was piled just outside the kitchen door; the axe hidden in a box tucked underneath the steps. It wasn't much an axe than it was a hatchet, just a small thing. What it did, though, was wonders. Johanna had used it to cut down firewood, hack down branches in the woods when they run short of it, cut up the games her father and her sister Katniss caught, and throw around onto the trees in the woods whenever she felt angry. Her best friend Finnick even knew better than to challenge her into a fight whenever she had it with her. She was deadly with it.

"Morning, hatchet," she greeted the thing as she gave it a gentle caress on the blade. "Let's go do some work."

The hatchet, of course, didn't answer. It was just a thing, static and harmless unless someone had it in their hands. Johanna wasn't one of those kids who treated her weapon as if it was alive and relied on it to do things for her. Her Uncle Haymitch had made sure he had seen to it when he first passed her the hatchet.

Nevertheless, she loved the thing, and took a good care as she got to work splitting some firewood for the day. A good look at the wood, to make sure there were no stray nails and other dangerous objects which might crook her hatchet. Stable positions for the logs, to make sure they didn't fall off and she didn't miss. Always striking on the same place, to spare herself and her hatchet unnecessary work. And positioning her arms just right for the hack, just so that she didn't slam the blade or the handle onto the ground.

There was a little bit of good ache in her arms as she returned the hatchet to its box afterwards, but the split firewood and the rushing of her blood paid for it all. Tying up all the split wood, she hauled them up the steps and into the house, straight to the living room fireplace where they belonged.

"You're getting really quick, Johanna," her father complimented her. "You'll be falling a tree before I know it!"

_Already did once, _she said to herself as she took the hug her father offered. It was a pretty dangerous thing, the size of the tree and those of hers and _Finnick_'s. As much as it gave her glee - and extra pocket money - she knew better than to gloat about it. Her father didn't take it too well when she was being unnecessarily foolish. To go out into the woods - which belonged to _The Capitol, _their country's central government- was already trouble-inviting without the illegal logging activities. He had made it clear that she would be getting thirty lashes on the back from the Peacekeepers if she was found stealing from The Capitol, and that he would rather not witness that.

"Jo-Jo?" Katniss's head peeked out behind the staircase turn.

"Yes, Kit-Kat?"

"Have you seen Prim's pink ribbon?"

"Nope," Johanna answered. "Perhaps on the cat. You know she loves that thing."

Katniss groaned and climbed downstairs, heading straight to that little nook off their kitchen where the cat's basket is. Most probably to catch the mangy orange thing and rip the ribbon off it so that their baby sister could put it in her own hair.

"Cat's not there," the middle girl grumbled a few seconds later, dragging herself grumpily back upstairs. "We'll just use the purple ribbon today."

"And buy a new pink one," Johanna sneered. "Thing's most probably dragged the damned ribbon through muds and vermin blood."

"Stupid cat."

Johanna smirked. Hating that mangy cat Buttercup was one of the few things she and Katniss would ever do together. They were too bullheaded to ever agree on most things. Both Mason and Everdeen women were famous for strong personalities, and Johanna and Katniss were no exception. They had headbutted each other since the day Katniss was born - or so Uncle Haymitch said. Frenemies, even before they could say each other's names.

Bram chuckled. Tilting her head aside, Johanna could see the guilty amusement in her father's eyes, and a slight smile on his face.

"You just won't leave Buttercup alone," he explained, shaking his head. "He's probably scared of you girls now."

"As if," Johanna said. She glanced - maliciously - outside the living room window. The creature liked perching on the deep windowsill. Although it wasn't there for the time being, Johanna was sure as fire it would be back really soon.

Someone bounded down the stairs, footsteps all springy and feather-like. Without even looking, Johanna knew it was Prim. Always the happy, excited child, even when the weather was bad and they were stuck inside. Heart-wise, Prim was so much like their father. Kind and generous, with this soothing presence which made everything better.

"Good morning!" she said cheerfully. "Look what Kat did for my hair!"

Turning around, Johanna could see the thing. Two pigtail braids which merged into one at the bottom. One of the signature styles their mother had done on Johanna and Katniss's hair those years ago, when they were around Prim's age. There were other styles, more and more intricate as they got older, a new one every month or so until the day their mother died. Since then, Johanna had never had the heart to wear her hair in braids again. The braids were her mother's. She wouldn't betray her Mama by letting someone else do that.

"It's pretty," she commented curtly, patting her sister lightly on the head. "Go eat your breakfast. We'll have to go pretty soon."

It was a Sunday and there was no school, but Johanna and Finnick had planned this little outing with their little siblings to give their fathers a time to breathe. They were going to cross over to The Mainland in Finnick's motorboat to see the Sunday Markets. This wouldn't be their first time going. Katniss was perhaps already bored of it. It got Prim and Finnick's little sister Delly excited, though, so it wasn't entirely a bad idea. At least, some people would be happy.

"Let's wait for Kat," Prim said, glancing up the stairs. "She won't be long."

And truly, Katniss didn't take long. The next second, she was already tiptoeing down, wearing her usual pants-and-jacket and the signature across-the-head single braid.

"Lucky you were quick," Johanna sneered at her sister, just for the fun of it. "I was about to eat your share."

A cold, hostile glare. She was successful.

The porridge breakfast went quickly, and before long, they were already out in the street, waving at their father who looked both sad and glad. It was the first time in a few long months that he had a day completely free of the three of them. Usually, he always had at least Katniss on Sundays. It was their hunting day, when the two of them would row across to one of the uninhabited islands and hunt the animals which was said to belong to The Capitol.

"Hope he'll be alright," Katniss muttered quietly, as they made their way to the Mellarks'. "Papa doesn't like being alone."

"He's gotta see his friends," Johanna told her sister. "He needs his own life, Brainless. We can't just hang around his legs all the times like overgrown lumps."

The middle sister quieted down at this.

"Jojo," she said, a couple of seconds later. "I don't feel good."

"Not again," Johanna groaned. "Come one, Kit-Kat! You can't always pretend you're sick all the time! Stop being such a hermit, won't you?"

"It's not that 'not good'!" Katniss snapped back, hissing. "It's just like... like something's gonna go wrong. I don't know why."

That silenced Johanna.

"Last time I felt this way, Mama died," Katniss explained, kicking a small stone on the street. "It's unsettling. I don't know what to do."

Something stirred in Johanna. And she hated it. It was as if her heart wanted to agree with her sister's ridiculous hunch; the irrational fear.

She found herself mimicking Katniss's stone-kicking, just to distract herself.

"Don't be ridiculous," she then decided to push her thoughts - and Katniss's - away. "Everything will be alright. Just because it happened once, doesn't mean it's gonna happen again, Brainless."

Katniss sighed.

"If you say so," she then shrugged, surrendering.


	3. Part I, Chapter II

**AN: **Hello. Thanks for reading, following, favouriting, subscribing, and giving kudos. Special thanks to my reviewers: jc52185, axes tridents and snares, CrazyAwesomeEamm, Juliet's Shadow, and Anla'shok from ff, and MaidenAlice from AO3. You guys are all awesome.

**Disclaimer: **As usual, all belongs to Suzanne Collins. I'm just borrowing.

* * *

**Part One - Children of The Islands  
Chapter Two: The Sunday Outing**

The rest of the short journey was spent listening to Prim's happy chatters and looking around at the neighbours' gardens. They were more like orchards and vegetable patches than gardens, really. People of Fire Island had little use of pretty flowers, except to name their daughters after. And even so, not everyone was named after flowers. There were girls named after sea creatures, and those named after queens and female rulers of the old days - including Johanna and little Delly whose full name was Adelaide.

"Knock for us," Johanna instructed Katniss when they finally arrived at the Mellarks' front door. "I'm feeling lazy today."

Katniss knocked begrudgingly. Johanna smirked. She loved it when she'd riled her sister up.

The door opened a few seconds later, revealing the middle child, Peeta. A cheerful, kind boy, he let them all in with a smile and his warm hello - and that little shyness when his eyes caught Katniss's. He was always shy around her, despite being one and a half year older.

"Dad's gone out already," he explained, as the Everdeen girls stood in the middle of the chaotic living room. "Fin's doing his hair upstairs. Delly's..."

"ADELAIDE! GIVE MY HAIR GEL BACK!"

Johanna rolled her eyes as the younger kids chuckled. It was no secret that Delly wasn't a big fan of her big brother's vanity habits, and wasn't afraid to get out of her usually kind ways to knock some sense to Finnick's head.

"Maybe I should go grab her," Peeta said sheepishly, as the hollering upstairs continued. "We won't go unless Fin's hair is..."

"Let me," Johanna cut him off, shoving past to climb up the stairs. She was familiar with this house. The boys' parents had been friends with hers since before any of them kids were born. She was pretty sure she spent about a quarter of her childhood here, playing with Finnick or being dropped off here when her parents were busy. As to where Finnick was exactly, she thought she might know had been countless times, since that day last winter, when she would find the then twelve years old Finnick in front of that mirror in _Delly's room, _smoothing his hair or checking out how he looked.

The door to the room, which was straight next to the stairs, was open. And there he was, _wrestling _his laughing five-year-old sister for some stupid hair gel. Just utterly vain, like how he had been these last eighteen months.

Johanna huffed.

She'd known Finnick ever since she was born, him being the son of her parents' best friends. Finnick had always been a friend, the best of her friends. However, he seemed to slip away these days, turning from that fun-loving boy she knew into this typical teenaged boy lusting after girls' attention.

"Finnick!" she yelled at her friend. "Let go of your baby sister, won't you? You'll kill her at this rate!"

The wrestling stopped. And so did the laughter.

"I'm not a baby!" Delly protested, crossing her arms on her chest. "I'm five!"

"Yes you are," Johanna told the girl, gently pulling her out of the room. "Go play with Prim. You're not going to survive wrestling this whale."

Delly perked up at that.

"Whale!" she taunted. "Whale! Whale! Whale!"

Cackling, Johanna watched the youngest Mellark darting out of the room and down the stairs to join their other siblings. It was amazing how much Delly had grown over the years. From the unwanted baby girl given away just like that to her birth mother's cousin, to the happy little sister who brought the Mellark boys joy even when she was driving them to insanity.

"Thanks for that, Mason," Finnick said sourly. He was back to looking at his mirror now, hands running through his bronze hair to give himself this ruffled look. Johanna had always thought that it was lucky that he was born first. According to Fire Islanders' customs, firstborn children inherited their mother's family name, no matter whom they resembled more. Finnick had the luck of actually resembling his red-haired, tanned late mother and inheriting her family name Odair, unlike Johanna who was a Mason in name yet didn't look like one.

"Anytime, Odair."

Now that no one stood between him and his perfect hair, Finnick's hair-styling session finished quickly. A good thing, Johanna must say, for she knew the wind would end up messing it all up anyway. It would last just long enough for those girls at their island's dock to marvel at - if Finnick was lucky.

And Johanna wished he would be unlucky today, for something actually burned inside her with each swoon he got from those random girls. She might as well have a crush on him, for all she knew. It was all too confusing she couldn't really tell, but there was this happiness she felt whenever he was around. When she closed her eyes, she could easily picture herself marrying Finnick - that was, of course, if she was to marry anyone. At this stage, she was still hesitant. She was scared that any child she would conceive with her future husband would end up killing her the way her brother did their mother. She didn't want to die.

"Come on," Finnick pulled her, snapping her out of her trance. "You're the one eager to go, right? Why are you still standing here?"

With a hiss of a bad word, Johanna stuck her tongue out at Finnick. Nevertheless, she followed him downstairs. There was no use in delaying their adventure. The Sunday Markets was waiting. And the kids were excited.

"Clean up your mess, Odair," she barked at Finnick, as she spotted a pair of dirty pants - clearly his - draped over the handrail. "You're such a spoiled child."

"Yes, Ma'am," he answered her mockingly - _without _picking it up.

Johanna rolled her eyes and grunted, as she picked up the pants and brought it to the laundry basket near the kitchen. Poor Peeta, who already had to pick up the most slack in the house, would have to help his father washing it later. Finnick never washed. He carried heavy flour sacks, did their gardening in spring and summer, and helped manning the counter in the Mellarks' bakery, but he was never one for cleaning. As he liked to put it, he was a manly man.

"You guys ready?" she heard the eldest boy asking their excited siblings.

"I am!" Delly said.

"I am," Prim agreed.

"Guess I am," Peeta added.

There was no answer from Katniss, but Johanna could picture her sister nodding. Katniss was a girl of actions, not words.

"That leaves Good Old Johanna," Finnick said. He had deliberately spoken louder - undoubtedly, in an effort to get even for her earlier chiding. "Hey Mason! You coming?"

_Yes, I am, _Johanna thought grumpily. _Just taking a detour to pick up your slack, Jerk._

That didn't come out, for she couldn't really be bothered. She just made her way out to the front door and marched out before Finnick did, in a swift effort to win this petty battle. And, yes, she won. Finnick came out a couple of seconds later, grinning and lifting his arms in surrender. It was all a little too easy.

The sun was pretty high in the sky, and the chilled air was sufficiently warm, as they all marched to the dock. That was where Finnick moored his boat. Fate was both generous and cruel, in that it took his mother and gave him her boat. Johanna remembered how stunned and remorseful he had been that day, when his mother's will was read and the boat was left to him. He had been nagging the poor woman for a boat for a couple of months before she started falling ill.

"And here's The Seahound!" he said proudly, as they reached the thing. "Climb in, Ladies and Gentleman! One by one. Let's not hurt this little beauty!"

"Stop it, Odair," Johanna barked, shaking her head in disbelief. "That's cheesy."

Her protest met a pair of unhearing ears, for Finnick prattled on. Huffing, Johanna blocked the thing out and focused on the crashing waves. Strong, frothy, unrelenting against the rocks of their shoreline.

"_See the waves, 'hanna? They made all those holes in those rocks. That's how you need to be. Resilient. There's nothing you can't do if you keep trying._"

That was her mother's rare words of wisdom, told to her when she was a small child. Lillian Mason had been a quiet woman, with way more substances than what she'd always shown. It pained and angered Johanna that her strong mother was defeated by something as small as a stillborn baby, but there was not much she could do about it. All she could do was to live for her little sisters. For Prim who'd gotten their mother's looks, and for Katniss who'd inherited the strength and the quiet demeanour.

"Your turn," Finnick tapped her shoulder gently. All their siblings were on the boat now, and he was half-in-and-half-out, holding the boat in place for her to climb in. "Please, My Lady."

"Cheesypants," she commented, sticking a tongue out at him as she climbed in.

The journey started short after she was in, as Finnick climbed in and started the motor. It was long and bumpy and _fun_, so much fun for all of them seafaring children. Fresh air, saltwater, everything which defined The Islands. Being in upper school, Johanna and Finnick made this crossing journey every single day, on that official ferry The Capitol provided to ferry them students up to The Mainland. It was nowhere near fun, though, all safety precautions and unsmiling crew and general fear to speak up. This was how a strait-crossing journey should be, in Johanna's opinion. Unrestrained, like the sea around them. Like the sky in their horizon. Like the gulls flying on the air above them, diving down at any convenient time, to the water and at people. Like everything The Islands. Not like everything _Capitol._

"And here we are," Finnick purred happily, as The Mainland Piers appeared before them.

Yes, here they were. Close to The Mainland, close to the candies and roasted nuts of the Sunday Markets. Closer to that fish and chips stall hidden at a corner of the Fishermen's Quarters, whose old owner prepared and fried the best shark-meat ever. Johanna's stomach rumbled at the thought of the greasy treats. It had been a while since she was last in that rickety stall. How many months? Three, four? She didn't really keep track. Things had been a bit tough in The Islands with the winter, and she hadn't had this much pocket money in a while. It was all pieces of winter fruits for a while, purchased from the Greengrocer's Reject Pile on the way back to the pier after school. Sweet and nice but boring. At this rate, her chest would remain flat and her hips, narrow. She needed the extra fat, desperately. She wanted to look twelve, not ten.

"Why is this boat so shaky?" Delly asked, concerned and innocent.

"It's the waves, Dell," Peeta explained, pulling his sister into a hug. "There's nothing to worry about. You see those boats there? They make a lot of waves as they move through. We're smaller, so we shake more, but we'll be just fine. Is that right, Fin?"

"Yep," Finnick agreed. He ruffled his brother's golden head affectionately, his eyes set proudly on Peeta's sky-blue ones. Inheriting the Mellark genes, Peeta resembled Delly more than he did Finnick, but there was no doubt the two were brothers. There was this friendliness around them, something which put people at ease - though Finnick's was often masked by this penchant for excessive words and that newly-acquired flirtiness.

"You sure it's the waves?" Katniss asked. "It feels like something's nudging us."

"Stop being paranoid, Brainless!" Johanna chided. "You're just..."

She trailed off. Something was indeed nudging them.

"That's an animal," Katniss said, her voice sharp and alert. "That's one of those freak things! Not the..."

That was unnecessary, really. Before she could even finish it, the freak thing had tipped the boat, sending her and Peeta flying into the cold winter sea.

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**Thanks for reading. This story still has a big, big room to grow, thus feedback would greatly be appreciated :).**


	4. Part I, Chapter III

**AN: **Thanks to all of you who have given this story a chance. Many thanks to my followers, favouriters, subscribers, and kudo-ers. Special thanks to my reviewers jc52185, Juliet's Shadow, Anla'shok, and axes tridents and snares from ff, and LadyofThorns from AO3. You're all awesome.

**Disclaimer: **All belongs to Suzanne Collins. I'm just borrowing.

* * *

**Part One - Children of The Islands**

**Chapter Three: What You See and What It Is**

It was indeed one of those _freak things._

Sixty five years prior, as the twelve districts rebelled against its tyrant rule, The Capitol had created these freak things called mutts. Animals in forms, altered dangerously as war weapons. Cruel, unrelenting, lethal. Left scattered around the districts after the war, a reminder of what had been and what could again be.

And that one shark mutt was one of them. Or the child or grandchild or great-grandchild of one.

Sitting outside The Mainland Healer's house, Johanna slowly recalled what happened. The creature tipping their boat, expelling Katniss and Peeta. The two children falling into the water, screaming and hanging onto each other. Her own arms snatching Delly and Prim, holding them close to her as Finnick signalled for help, his other arm extended towards the water for Katniss and Peeta to grasp - to no avail. A fisherman's boat arriving, its crew pulling Katniss out of the water. And, finally, Peeta. Peeta, who loved wrestling and running around with his big brother, pulled out of the water with a mangled leg.

She still remembered Finnick's angry, agonized cry. The gentler, scared ones of their little sisters, as well as her own desperate, distant one. Those strong arms of a fisherman, lifting her out of _The Seahound _and into a large fishing boat. _The Seahound, _broken and battered, floating away in the distance. That supply truck carrying her, Finnick, and the younger girls from the wharf to the healer's house, racing after the motorbike which carried Peeta. Finnick and a shocked Katniss whisked away inside, leaving her with Prim and Delly outside in the winter rain. The girls crying themselves to exhaustion, falling into restless sleeps in the cold. Her own tears, coming way too late, warm as they fell and freezing cold as they dried off. She was hungry. And cold. And scared.

She didn't know how long she sat there, or who alerted her family, but someone finally picked her up. Uncle Haymitch, fresh off a Capitol trip, pulling her into a wordless hug. It was in one of his many spare bedrooms that she finally got the words of Peeta's fate, a couple of hours later as her Papa came for her, Prim, and Delly.

"Papa?" she asked him, feeling weak and helpless for the first time in years. "Did he make it?"

Her father drew a deep breath.

"Yes, Johanna," he said. "Peeta is alive."

"How's his... _the _leg?" she pressed on.

Bram drew yet another deep breath.

"They had to amputate."

_Amputate. _That was the word Johanna's mother had used for 'cutting off people's arms or legs in order to save their lives'. Peeta's leg was truly gone now.

"He's going to stay here with your Uncle Haymitch for a bit," her father explained, squeezing her shoulders gently. "Finnick is going to stay here with him."

"Can I... can I stay?"

It felt stupid and weak, pleading like that, but she had to ask. Sunday excursion was her idea. If she hadn't suggested it, Peeta would still be walking around happily now, probably painting the sunset from the top of that hill back home as he always did. They wouldn't have met that shark mutt. They wouldn't...

"We need to go home with Katniss," her father said, cutting her train of thoughts off. He bent down and pulled her into a hug. Johanna buried her face on his shirt and inhaled, taking in the comforting smell of the medical herbs he traded for a living. That was the smell of her childhood, the smell of their small herb shop in Fire Island, the smell of home and comfort.

"How's Kit-Kat?" she asked. Another guilt crept up, as she realized she'd never even thought of poor Katniss since the younger girl was whisked away. She'd been having this faith that her sister would be alright, that her tough sister would come out alright. Never had she thought of how Katniss felt - until their father mentioned Katniss's name.

"She's really sad," Bram answered, gently untangling Johanna from him. "We'd better hurry up before it's too dark to go. I think she just wants to go home."

She nodded, and relented as her father pulled her up from the fluffy bed and ushered her out of the warm, luxurious room. Part of her mourned the loss of the warmth of the thick wool covers and the softness of the silken sheets, but she knew she had to go home. She had to take care of her sister.

Uncle Haymitch was in his lavish living room when they walked in there, perched on the ridiculous leather couch. And so was Finnick and Peeta's Dad, Reuben. There was nothing else there but the furniture and this silence; they each had a sleeping little girl in arms.

"Got you guys a helicraft," Uncle Haymitch told his brother, as soon as the two saw each other. "Sweetheart's still out, but lifting her shouldn't be a big deal. I'll pass you this Little One."

He turned to Johanna, gave her a look, and said, "I assume you don't need lifting, Doll."

"I'll be fine," Johanna agreed, looking outside her Uncle's window. The winter sky was darkening out there; soon, it would be too dark to fly out to the Fire Island. Some hours had passed. And she was still shaken. Everything seemed so unfamiliar, except her father's herby smell and the nicknames her uncle gave her and her sisters - Doll, Sweetheart, and Little One.

"We'll take Delly tonight," she heard her father offering Finnick's Dad. "Stay here with your sons."

"I can't," said Reuben. There was a hint of frustration in his voice, as if it pained him but he had no other choice. "Someone has to run the bakery. We'll need all the money. He'll need a wheelchair."

"Or a fake leg," Johanna found herself adding, spinning around to face the three grown men. "Peeta loves hiking up the hill. You can't confine him in a damned wheelchair."

"Johanna," Bram warned. "Don't say that bad word, please."

"The girl's right," Haymitch said, wary and wise beyond his thirty years. "A leg the boy lost; a leg he needs. Let him run and walk."

He paused and looked at the Mellark boys' distraught father, before continuing, "not meaning to offend you, Mellark, but I'll be happy to help with whatever I can."

There was this pained, torn look in Reuben Mellark's face.

"You've been too kind," he finally said, tearing his gaze away. "You should really stop pulling strings for us, Haymitch. It won't be long before they get you again."

Johanna was expecting her uncle to keep pressing on, but instead, Haymitch said nothing. He just acknowledged those words with a straight-lipped smile, and a flash of pain in his eyes which sent her wondering even more about her friends' father's words.

"Helicraft's all yours, though," the Victor said, getting up with Prim in his arms. "Insist on paying, and you'll be in trouble."

"Thanks."

Haymitch handed Prim to her father. Johanna followed him with her eyes as he disappeared up the stairs, undoubtedly to get Katniss.

"What's about the strings and people after Uncle Haymitch?" she asked her father and Reuben.

The men shot each other these looks.

"Johanna," Bram finally said, beckoning her for an one-armed hug. "Sometimes, what you see isn't what it is."

"Stop being secretive, Papa," she scowled. "I'm not a little kid."

"It's bigger than you are, Johanna," Reuben butted in, gently lifting Delly from the couch. "No need to worry about it for now."

"I'll get your uncle to tell you when you're older," Bram said, kissing her lightly - and distractedly - on her head. "For now, just assume it's nothing, and like Reuben said - don't worry."

**- The - Guardian -**

It was impossible not to worry, though. Johanna found herself worrying as she boarded the helicraft with her father, Reuben, and the younger girls. She found herself worrying as she curled up next to a restless, whimpering Katniss that night, armed with a damp towel to wipe her sister's cold sweat. She found herself worrying more and more as days went by, as she went to school pretending everything was fine and spent her afternoons at her uncle's house with Finnick and poor Peeta.

And she definitely found herself worrying as she caught her uncle slumping on the _mahogany _dining table, one late winter afternoon when she dropped by on her own to see Peeta.

"Uncle Mitch?" she shook him, dropping her schoolbag on the floor. "You right?"

A gray eye opened up, red and wild, sending her jumping back in surprise and fear.

"Doll," he slurred out. "You're such a good girl. A pretty girl."

"You're drunk," she told him, in a slight disbelief of what her strong uncle had become.

He chuckled.

"I am," he said. "And that's why you should never be a Victor, Doll. You should just die in the Games, if you ever end up in it."

She nodded, dumbfounded. The Games he was referring to, of course, was The Hunger Games. That yearly inter-district survival contest The Capitol had set up after the failed rebellion as a way of reminding the citizens of the districts of what would be if they again rebel. The one in which a boy and girl from each of the twelve districts - twenty four tributes - entered the Arena, and only one came out as Victor two weeks or so later.

"There's never a true Victor," Haymitch slurred on, laughing to himself. "We all lose at the end."

Now, this was something totally absurd. Uncle Haymitch _was _a true Victor. To Johanna, he was the truest of the Victors. His Games was the fiftieth, one of those quarter-century specials called the Quarter Quell. And to spice it up, they had put in twice as many tributes as usual, making it a grand total of forty eight instead of a mere twenty four.

Her uncle had outlived forty seven tributes and, legendarily, killed none directly. Haymitch Abernathy had used his smarts, instead of some kind of brute force those other Victors had used.

"Stop speaking bollocks, Uncle Mitch," she chided him. Her hands moved to her hips and perched there. She didn't know whether this would work, whether it would do the thing she wanted, but her teacher always did this so she might as well try. "You are a true Victor."

He looked at her. And did something she wouldn't ever be able to forget.

He started crying.

**- The - Guardian -**

The memory stayed with her throughout the day. It was with her as she backed out to the ground floor spare bedroom to see Peeta, helping Finnick changing the dressing on that stump which used to be Peeta's leg. It was with her as she took the ferry home to Fire Island by herself, looking for answers outside the window. It was with her as she sat down cuddling Prim in the living room, attempting - without much success - to help Katniss on her Marine Science homework. It was with her as she prepared dinner for her father and her sisters, distracting her so much the meat ended up a bit burnt.

"You seem upset, Johanna," her father said afterwards, as they cleaned up the dishes and the table. They were alone in the kitchen; the younger girls had gone to bed. "Anything bothering you?"

"Uncle Mitch's been drinking," she blurted out, unable to contain it any longer. It felt wrong, ratting out her uncle, but she just had to. What she saw wasn't good, and she knew her father could fix it.

Bram sighed.

"I'll go talk to him tomorrow," he said, pulling Johanna for a quick hug. "Thanks for thinking about your uncle, Lady Knight."

"He told me that if I ever end up in the Games, I would better die in it than be the Victor," she decided to tell her father more. "Why did he say that?"

Her father let out another sigh.

"Johanna," he let go of her, placing his hands on her shoulders. "Listen carefully."

She looked up. Her heart pounded in her chest, for some reason she couldn't fathom. Perhaps it was her father's tone. Perhaps it was the fact that his hands were so firm on her shoulders, as if he would never let her go.

"Your uncle was right."

There was a pain and something else in her father's voice, something hot and raging and burning - a fire.

"I let your uncle volunteer," he said, hanging his head in shame. "I thought it would save your grandfather."

Swallowing, Johanna forced herself to look at her father. He looked sad. No, not sad. Devastated. She knew that Uncle Haymitch wasn't actually picked out for the Games. Her uncle had volunteered to go, in the hope that he would win and thus be able to afford some medication for Johanna's grandfather. Although her grandfather's illness was later proven too great for even the best of Capitol doctors, Johanna still thought that it was heroic and sweet of her uncle to risk his life like that.

"That wasn't wrong," she told her father, silently begging him to stop berating himself. "You just wanted to heal Grandpa."

"It was wrong, Lady Knight," Bram disagreed. His grip on her tightened - was he afraid? Was he scared _she _would disappear?

"Why?" she asked him.

"I destroyed your uncle's life."

There was little she understood, to tell the truth. How could her father say that, when her uncle lived a life of fame and riches? Uncle Haymitch was better off than many others in their district. No one she knew wouldn't want a life like that, not having to worry about money or getting lost in the ocean or in the wilderness of The Islands.

"Papa," she spoke up, unable to contain herself, "how..."

It was then that it all came to her that it might be what her Papa, her Uncle, and Finnick's Dad were talking about that other day, about pulling strings and people running after her uncle.

"_Sometimes, what you see isn't what it is_"

She fell silent. And so did her father.

"Lady Knight," Bram finally said, turning aside towards their window as he released Johanna. "Promise me that you will never volunteer. And that you will never ever let your sisters volunteer."

Somehow, her tongue was too weak to answer. She hoped, though, that her father had seen her nodding then.

* * *

**Once again, thanks for giving this story a chance. This is my 1st time writing from the perspective of a 12 yo, so any help pointing out what isn't working would be appreciated.**

**Feel free to ask me questions, too, I'll respond and I won't bite :). See you when the next chapter is ready!**


	5. Part I, Chapter IV

Thanks for reading, following, favouriting, subscribing, bookmarking, and giving kudos. Special thanks to jc52185, Juliet's Shadow, axes tridents and snares, and Anla'shok for their reviews, and for ETNRL4L for her comments. You guys all rock.

**Disclaimer: **All belongs to Suzanne Collins. Just borrowing here.

* * *

**Part One - Children of The Islands**

**Chapter Four: The Price of an Adventure**

Came spring, all was finally normal again.

Or semi-normal, at least. No matter what they all did, there were always things which would never be the same.

Waking up three times a night from Mutt-related nightmares was now normal for the still twelve year old Johanna, as normal as it was for the nearly five year old Prim and Katniss who was almost nine. Sometimes they would wake up together, sometimes one of them would scream or cry and wake up the others. There had been sleepless nights in which Johanna woke up to hold one of her little sisters to sleep, then did the same thing for another sister, and finally woke up from her own nightmare. With time, though, came this realization that it was not at all real. These recent days, Johanna could sleep through those nightmares pretty well, as they became less and less vivid with each passing day.

Another thing, which would never be the same, was Peeta's leg.

Finnick and his Dad scraped enough to order a crude prosthesis - that was the proper term for fake limbs, apparently - from the Capitol. It wasn't anything fancy; just something which allowed the poor eleven year old to limp around. No one thought it was good enough, except Peeta himself, who took it with such graciousness that sometimes had his brother in tears. Finnick had never stopped blaming himself. And Johanna thought he most probably wouldn't be able to ever stop. She knew she would never be able to, had it been Katniss and not Peeta whose leg was bitten off.

This morning, she caught her fourteen year old best friend tearing up again, as they waited on the docks for their school ferry to the mainland. He'd moved back to his family house in Fire Island a few weeks prior, upon Peeta's request that they come back home to their father and sister. It was the first day he turned up early enough to not miss the school ferry, though. Her first chance to actually talk to him, without their fathers and little siblings around.

"'Sup?" she approached him, feeling a little bit stupid for her lame greetings but couldn't find anything else to say. She was pretty much tongue-tied. It was outrageously silly, not being able to say anything to the friend she'd known for as long as she lived. But it happened, and she could only do what she could.

"Same old," he answered her. "Peeta fell over again this morning. I don't know what to do."

"I don't know either."

The conversation stopped at this. They really had nothing to say to each other.

"I need to get him a better leg," Finnick said a few long minutes later. "Get the best doctors from The Capitol to fit it... It needs to be perfect, Jo. He won't ever walk again otherwise."

"He was doing pretty well with the crutches," Johanna pointed out, recalling that short stroll they took with Peeta and Katniss a couple of weeks ago. "Perhaps you should just forget the leg."

At that, Finnick yanked her shoulder, forceful and rough she nearly toppled backwards. She yelped. It was surprising. And it hurt.

"Doing pretty well you said?" he snapped at her. "My brother's crippled, Mason! And what are you doing here? Telling me he's fine with crutches?"

Those last few words echoed, as Johanna stood still. Her best friend had just told her she was useless.

He'd never been this angry at her before.

A honk from the ferry saved her from his further wrath. Forceful and angry, he pulled his hand away. She toppled backwards.

"Damn you Odair!" she shouted as she scrambled for her footing. "I didn't bite your brother's leg off! It's the damn mutt!"

He stopped on his track.

"I hope you remember that the outing was your idea, Mason."

... _yes. _The outing was her idea.

She knew that, but that stung even worse coming out of Finnick's mouth.

"Fin!" she screamed for him. "Fin! Wait!"

It all stung even more, as he ignored her and climbed on.

**- The - Guardian -**

_Thwack._

She made this brilliant suggestion to Finnick, to go on this outing to the Sunday Markets.

_Thwack._

This shark mutt tipped off their boat and chased his brother and her sister.

_Thwack._

Peeta's leg got bitten. Then cut off.

_Thwack._

It all came back to her outing suggestion.

She was ashamed for being such a crybaby, but she let herself cry nevertheless. There was no one here in the woods anyway, except her hatchet. And it wasn't even alive. It couldn't tell stories.

"Damn," she muttered, plucking her ax out of that dent it made on that last tree she threw it onto. The hot tears felt annoying on her face; she rubbed her face against her sleeve to get rid of them. "Damn it."

Now that she felt less angry, the guilt rose again. Finnick was right. The outing was her idea. She should do something. She shouldn't just sit there and let Peeta limp around in that lame prosthesis. Maybe, if she could cut down some more trees...

... no. It wouldn't be enough.

Perhaps she could ask Uncle Haymitch to help the Mellarks in secret. Buy Peeta a better leg and send it without a sender's address, or something like that. Uncle Haymitch would be able to help. He was so rich.

The spring sun was going down, so Johanna decided to call it a day. This fenced woods on Fire Island's west side was a place no one outside her family and Finnick went to. Fire Islanders weren't supposed to be here - this place was The Capitol's. They were supposed to live along the east coast and in the central region, cultivating pearls or growing those rare plants native to their island. Fulfill the role in creating a prosperous Panem - or, more likely, a prosperous Capitol. Johanna knew they could buy the pearls, herbs, and fruits at any price they wanted - and that was usually a low one.

Securing this abandoned woods high on a cliff was pretty much a low priority, though, thus the fences were never electrified. It was even broken, Johanna found last year. The electricity control box had been busted in one of those summer storms. Once she'd travelled her well-mapped path back to her usual section, she hauled herself up with ease, climbing that said fence and coming down on that dense mango orchard on the other side. The orchard belonged to some third or fourth cousin of hers. They were perfectly happy for her to land on it, especially when she'd caught some squirrels they could buy.

"Just one today," she told the mother of the family, as she passed the plump, blonde woman on her way out to the streets. "They'd gotten more clever in hiding."

"I'll take it," the woman replied, smiling as she fished into her pockets for some coins. A polite smile, nothing more. Just what Johanna expected, knowing well that she wasn't that endearing child everyone fawned over.

She was back on those familiar streets of her island once the trade was done. The sun had gone a little bit further down since she left her throwing spot; the sky a soft shade of orange. A lump formed in her throat. This was the kind of sunset Peeta loved to paint. Once he had a better leg, he could once more climb up to that hill up north near The Pyre to paint, doing his favourite thing in the world...

Johanna closed her eyes and said this quick wish that Uncle Haymitch would be back from his Capitol trip soon, so that she could request that new leg soon.

The Everdeen house, like most others, was located on the eastern side. From the orchard, Johanna made her way east back to the shoreline, turning up north when the old, rusty lighthouse signage appeared on her right hand side. If she hurried up, she might have some time to help Prim learning how to read before she had to help her father cooking dinner. Katniss was too busy at the moment, with an important Capitol Studies class test coming up. Failing the exam implied some serious canning, thus Johanna freed her sister from her chores and let her study for a couple of days. It wasn't something she absolutely liked, but she had no other choice.

The sky darkened as she made her way up north, so she spurred herself faster. Dinnertime was coming up soon. It had to be started, otherwise...

Her panic was for a bit interrupted, as she passed an unfamiliar yet unwanted figure on the street.

The tall, tanned guy with faded black hair was one of their past Victors. A Mainlander, superficially nice with a lot of other layers underneath - scrutinizing, cruel, tactful, and many others. The head of The Survival Academy of District Four, where some eager kids learned how to win The Hunger Games. He was the one who decided on whether he would take an applicant in, whether a boy or a girl was worthy enough to join his band of potential volunteers. His presence here meant that someone from Fire Island had applied for volunteering this year. He would only come here and direct-inspect a candidate if it was urgent.

"Good evening, Miss Mason," he greeted her, his chilling voice ringing as she passed him.

"Good evening," she responded curtly. She didn't particularly like that guy, but he was one of Haymitch's neighbours, and they'd been introduced before when she visited her uncle.

The urgency of dinner preparation was higher than her desire to actually stop and snark the man out, thus she just kept going. That wasn't important. The volunteer candidate wouldn't be someone that she knew well, she wasn't friends with any big fans of the Games.

Houses after houses after houses, she just kept walking, warding off the chill and chasing up the last light of the sun. The last turn to her street finally appear in front of her. She smiled a victorious smile as she made the turn, and stood right at her door.

_Home at last, _she sighed happily. _Now, to cook dinner..._

She stopped, as her brain registered the familiar stranger speaking to her sisters and father inside.

Delly.

Fingers fumbling, Johanna reached into her shirt to fish out her house key. It was there, to her delight, hanging from the necklace she hung it on.

"I don't wanna go home_,_" she heard Delly saying, as she slipped into the house. "Daddy scared me."

Johanna frowned. Reuben Mellark was far from scary - normally. He was this kind, quiet man, and he definitely adored Delly.

"You can stay here with us tonight," she heard her sister Prim offering, kind and happy as usual. "We can squeeze you in our bed..."

_As if, _Johanna told herself, rolling her eyes. The double bed was already too small for them three girls. Had it not been for her smarts, they would have hurt themselves rolling off it.

Nevertheless, Delly was a friend, and Johanna would help the girl if she could. One night squeezed on that bed seemed alright.

"Hey," she said, as she turned around to face them all. "I'm home."

"Welcome home," her father answered. Immediately, he stood up from his armchair. Johanna was pretty sure she was about to get some words for staying out in twilight, until he turned to the younger girls instead.

"Johanna and I need to go prepare dinner," he said. "You girls alright there?"

"Let me help," Katniss offered, standing up. "I'm a big girl now. I can hold a knife."

"Not tonight, Katniss," Bram refused, gently nudging the girl back to the couch. "Tomorrow?"

There was a scowl on Katniss's face, when she nodded a second later. Johanna sighed. She would happily trade her cooking shift with Katniss any day. It bored her already, like those other girl jobs, and she would rather sit there babysitting than come near the stove again today.

"Come on, Johanna," her father said, gently tapping on her arm. "It's getting late."

She dragged herself behind him, darting one last look at her sisters and Delly as she disappeared into the kitchen. Her annoyance upon her father's refusal was soon forgotten, though, as he closed the door behind them and bent down to her eye level.

"Lady Knight," he told her, a firm hand on her shoulder. "Finnick has applied to volunteer for the Sixty-Fifth Games".

* * *

**Thanks for giving this a chance everyone! Please review - I'm more than glad to receive constructive criticism and feedback from you all.**

**I'll be travelling the next couple of weeks, but will try to sneak in some time to post. Also, since my chapters for this story are short, I'm considering increasing my posting frequency to twice a week - at least until the end of Part I. Which one is best for you (and your time :)): weekly or twice-weekly?**


	6. Part I, Chapter V

**AN: **Thanks to all readers, followers, subscribers, and those who've favourited, bookmarked, and gave kudos to this story. Special thanks to my reviewers: Juliet's Shadow, axes tridents and snares, jc52185, and Anla'shok. You're all awesome.

**Disclaimer: All belongs to Suzanne Collins. Just borrowing.**

* * *

**Part One - Children of The Islands**

**Chapter Five: Friends**

"Finnick has applied to volunteer for the Sixty-Fifth Games."

That stunned her. Finnick. Her friend Finnick. Volunteering for the Sixty-Fifth Games, which would be...

Just in a couple of months.

"But it's this year!" she hissed at her father. "How can it all be, Papa? He'll lose it!"

Seriously, it was ridiculous. Finnick was just fourteen. Though the rules said all children between twelve and eighteen were eligible to be picked, they hadn't yet had any Victor younger than fifteen so far. Especially these last years.

Bram looked sadly at Johanna.

"It's not yet certain he'll be picked," he told her. "Most likely he won't. There are older boys in The Academy."

He paused and inhaled, before continuing, "he'd taken the dowry from The Academy, though. He would need to stay with them until he's eighteen."

Each children accepted into The Academy was rewarded with some amount of money for their trouble, straight from The Head Trainer and The District Mayor's pockets. They called it the dowry, and it was pretty much a binding contract. The only way to get out would be to pay it back. Johanna knew of a couple of teenagers who'd backed out. The Academy made sure their names were released, that the whole district know of the "cowards" as they called it.

Johanna sighed. Finnick was definitely being an idiot here.

"I'll get Reuben to talk to your uncle once he's calmed down," her father said, pulling her into a hug. "Would be great if you can keep Finnick company, though. He's definitely really sad."

**- The - Guardian -**

When Johanna approached Finnick at the dock the next morning, "keeping him company" wasn't much more than a wistful plan than it was a real intention.

All truth told, she was feeling pretty apprehensive. She didn't appreciate the way he'd made her feel the previous day. The way he'd dug the guilt even deeper in her. The way he'd pushed her off. The way he'd spoken to her, as if she was the shark mutt.

The way he'd become an idiot and applied to volunteer.

"Odair," she greeted him, firm and angry, as he walked past her. "I heard you're doing something."

He stopped and turned to her.

"Yes I am," he said, sure as fire. "I'm doing what I can to help my brother."

Somehow, it stung her.

"You should have told me!" she snapped at him, pushing aside that guilt he'd again instilled in her. "I could've talked to my uncle! You don't have to be a Victor yourself!"

There was a change in the air as he stepped forward towards her. Being two years older, Finnick had always been taller, and he'd grown up even more these past two years that he had several good inches on her. The top of her head barely reached his chin as they stood face-to-face, but she'd never felt bigger and braver than this, standing up against him.

"Then why haven't you done it?" he challenged her.

"Your Dad didn't want it."

That conversation between his father and her uncle replayed in her head as she said that, each and every word as it was that day. If it wasn't for Reuben Mellark's refusal, they would've gotten Peeta a better leg. They wouldn't need to scrap around like this. Finnick wouldn't have needed to sign up for The Academy.

Johanna might be at fault for planning that fateful outing, but it was the boys' father's fault that Peeta hadn't gotten the best of legs now.

She looked up to meet Finnick's eyes, and straight away felt that sharp hostility he aimed towards her.

"You're talking my Dad here," he said, sounding much older and harsher than the Finnick she knew. "How about yourself? You could have arranged it yourself, Mason. Be responsible for it. You're such a kid."

"And what are you?" she sassed out at him. "A warrior or something?"

He averted her gaze.

"Just trying to do something," he finally said, his voice breaking. "I just need to do something."

Their school ferry chose that very moment to dock in, honking its horn hard in an effort to round them all. Johanna relented and get on it with Finnick, as he resignedly follow her a couple of steps behind.

"We'll go talk to Uncle Haymitch when he's back," she told him quietly, as they took their favourite seats at the back. "He'll be able to do something. We'll find a way to pay The Academy back."

"Johanna!"

He sounded so ruffled, that she couldn't help but shrinking down a bit in fear as he grabbed her arm.

"I'm no coward," he told her. "I can't break that promise. I will volunteer as I said."

He looked around, as if afraid that someone was watching them, then released her.

"I know you're scared," he whispered. "I'm scared too. But I've got to do this, Jo. Please let me. Now, let's be friends again?"

He offered his pinky finger at this, waiting for her to take it with hers.

"Friends again," she agreed, her need for his friendship and her desperation to redeem herself in his eyes defeating the strengths of her resolve.

**- The - Guardian -**

One afternoon, a couple of weeks after they decided to be friends again, Johanna found herself waiting for Finnick at The Academy's terrace just for the sake of it.

Like the rest of the gray, cold-looking building, the terrace was stiff and unwelcoming. The floor Johanna now sat at - having found no seats to sit on at all - was hard and cold, totally uncomfortable. It didn't help that she was in her school uniform, either. The skirt and stockings did little to ward off the cold, or the dampness left by that light rain around lunchtime.

She'd been here for a while now, having headed here after the school librarian kicked her out. The small library closed at four thirty in the afternoon - an hour earlier than the end of Finnick's training session. The Marketplace was ramping down too when she got there, thus The Academy was her only choice. Located right near the piers, it was a pretty safe place, so she guessed it wasn't that bad. After all, she would only be there for thirty or so minutes.

Supposedly.

It was now forty five minutes past five o'clock, and there was no sign that the activities inside was winding down. Johanna could still hear the coaches - some of the past Victors - barking orders inside, getting all those candidates to 'move faster' or 'fight better'. And it tempted her damn hard, for strangely it sounded like _fun_. They seemed to have a lot of fun roughhousing in there, all laughter and playful jibes and other things. The kind of play that Johanna liked.

The window over her head flung open. Startled, she looked up, straight into the eyes of Dorian Waverider. That Victor she saw at Fire Island, the night Finnick's volunteering came into light.

"Miss Mason," he said, in this somewhat-too-sweet voice. "Didn't know you were here. Finally making up your mind for volunteering?"

Of all the possible causes Dorian Waverider could have, getting Johanna - and Katniss, in that matter - to join The Academy was high up in his list. There had been countless times when he would drop by at Uncle Haymitch's place when them girls were there, bringing up some _supposedly fresh _food and throwing compliments at their postures and agilities. A dead set hint that he wanted them as part of his academy, though he must have known by now how uninterested they - and their father and uncle - were about that.

"Not yet, Mr. Waverider," Johanna answered. If it was up to her, he wouldn't have called this faker 'Mr. Waverider', but there was this expectation she had to live to. Her mother had always taught her to be polite. "I'm just waiting for a friend."

"Finnick Odair, isn't it?" Waverider asked. There was some kind of smile on his lips, the kind of smile Johanna noticed on people's face when they were hiding something else.

"Yep," she answered him. "Could you estimate when the training would be over, Mr. Waverider? I can just come back later, if this bothers you."

"Soon," he said. "You might wait right there, Miss Mason. It's a little bit too late for a quiet stroll around."

And soon it was - if the definition of 'soon' was fifteen minutes. At three minutes past six, the stark-white door flung open, and out poured the volunteer candidates. Boys and girls of all ages, some smaller than Katniss and some much older they were practically adults. Johanna watched them dispersing - in their small groups - towards their own homes and towards the piers. Those last few public ferries transporting cannery workers from the mainland to their home islands were docking there now. The Islanders had exactly twelve minutes to get to their respective wharves, before those ferries departed.

"Finnick!" she waved for her friend, as soon as his bronze head appeared. "Here!"

There was this surprise in his face as he turned to face her. No, not surprise. He looked a little mortified.

"Jo," he finally said, stepping aside to join her. "What are you doing here?"

"Waiting for you," she answered him, honest and frank. "We're friends again, right?"

"Yeah," he said. "But you should just go home without me. It's..."

Johanna paid no attention to what he said next, for she saw something else that moment. There, behind Finnick, stood a girl. Long, dark hair, green eyes, and a kind expression on her face, Johanna immediately recognized her. Annie Cresta, one of her classmates from school. A Mainlander - and a very unlikely candidate for volunteering.

"Hey," she waved, now that they'd locked eyes and it was impossible to just ignore it all.

"Hey Johanna," Annie answered, her voice shy and small. Johanna knew this girl wasn't much for words. They'd been sitting next to each other in some of their classes, and Annie had barely said a word to her.

"Oh, right!" Finnick exclaimed, clapping his hands together. "Of course you're in the same class! Well, we can hang around together at lunch now!"

So, apparently, Annie Cresta was also Finnick's friend now.

"Well, sure," Johanna found herself answering. She didn't mind Annie Cresta at all. How could she mind someone who hadn't been more than kind and quiet throughout their acquaintance? Annie Cresta was a much better option than those Mainland Bullies or loneliness - or getting Finnick angry again at her because she rejected his new friend.

"Set!" Finnick exclaimed. "Let's start this thing tomorrow!"

Annie beamed at him. And that moment, Johanna regretted agreeing to the lunch plan. She didn't know what happened, really, but that jealousy triggered again. It felt wrong, thinking something ill about someone as nice as Annie Cresta, but she couldn't help it. Especially when she knew that the girl was Finnick's new best friend now, someone with whom he'd shared something he couldn't share with Johanna.

The jealousy stayed on as she made her way down to the wharf, with a somewhat-giddy Finnick in tow. It was there as they get on that last ferry to Fire Island, so much that she didn't even give any damn to Finnick's stories and jokes. It was there as Finnick walked her home, happily chattering about those things he'd learned in The Academy that day, and something about fighting one of the Mainland Bullies.

"Oh, damn this, Mason," he eventually snapped, after trying to catch her attention a tenth time or so. "Are you the one who's mad now? What is it this time?"

She halted and looked away.

"Jo? Mason? What did I do wrong?"

"No wonder you've been ignoring me," she barged on. Her chest tightened. It was almost like losing her mother again - this feeling of having someone important taken away. She should have known that there had been a new friend when Finnick didn't continue with their lunches together. When he spent a couple of extra hours in the Mainland after his Saturday trainings. When the only time they spent together nowadays was the ferry ride and Sunday afternoons when their sisters had playdates.

"What?" he chuckled out. "You _jealous_?"

"Shut up," she snapped. "I'm not in love with you."

Now, that was a lie. But Johanna wasn't going to tell Finnick she liked him. She wanted him to say it first. That way, she could never lose.

"There's friend-jealousy too, you know," Finnick chuckled out again. "And you're definitely having it now."

"Okay," she relented. "I am _friend-jealous_."

There was another chuckle, then a pair of strong arms pulling her into a friendly hug. Seemed like he thought she was wrong.

"Jo," he told her. "I befriended Annie because she needs it. She started in The Academy around the same time I did, and she's really scared about things. I'm just trying to keep her going."

"What about me?" Johanna asked, murmuring onto his shirt.

He pulled away and grasped her arms, planting a light kiss on her head.

"You're still my best friend," he said, his voice steady and sure. "Best friends forever?"

There were two pinky fingers offered this time, symbols of unbreakable promise.

"Best friends forever," she relented, taking both those fingers for 'best friends forever' was better than 'strangers'.

* * *

**Thanks for reading! I'll try to put up the next chapter in a couple of days, but my travel has been crazy so far I can't guarantee when 'in a couple of days' would exactly be. Stay tuned, though! :)**


	7. Part I, Chapter VI

**AN: **Thanks for reading! And thanks for following, favouriting, subscribing, bookmarking, and giving kudos. Special thanks to my reviewers from ff: Juliet's Shadow, Anla'shok, axes tridents and snares, and jc52185. You guys are all awesome :D

**Disclaimer: **All belong to Suzanne Collins.

**Edited: **August 5, 2013

* * *

**Part One - Children of The Islands**

**Chapter Six: Volunteered**

"You anxious about getting picked?" Johanna quietly asked.

Her two lunch companions, Finnick and Annie, said nothing at first.

"I'm not going up this year," Annie whispered, a few seconds later. Her eyes darted around quickly, as if afraid if someone from The Academy would show up and bust them out for talking about it. "They don't quite like me."

Looking at Finnick, Johanna knew he didn't have the same answer. Four mere months after joining The Academy, he was already a favourite there, popular among most others and with those Victors training him. He'd always been careful to not let any of it slide, but after several weeks of friendship, Annie had finally decided to open up further to Johanna and let her know. That truth came out during one of those rare lunches they didn't spend with Finnick, about two weeks ago.

"It's a toss between me and two other boys," he finally said, a couple of seconds into Johanna's persistent staring. "Dorian is going to decide on Sunday morning."

Sunday morning. That would be just a couple of hours before The Reaping. The chosen volunteer wouldn't know he was going in until then.

"That's just mean," she blurted out, suddenly losing appetite for her mango slices. "You should be able to say your goodbyes, to train harder..."

"It's better not to know, Jo," Finnick cut her off, a somewhat - sad smile on his face. "What would be scarier, knowing that you would most likely die, or knowing that you might die?"

That silenced Johanna. It was the first time, in her twelve years, that someone made her think about that. And, hell, yes. Finnick was right. It would be downright scary, knowing that you would most likely die. It would just be too sad.

Volunteering was harder on Finnick than what he let on. Maybe, deep inside, he didn't want to do it. Maybe she should convince him to quit his training - screw those stupid people who would shame him for bailing.

"Anyway," he said a couple of seconds later, the smile turning into a forced, fake grin. "You want sugar cubes?"

And there went Johanna's resolve. He didn't want her to get him out of the training. He'd made that clear the morning she confronted him. There were only so many times she could push his buttons - and she'd pushed three times too many the day she suggested that outing which costed Peeta his leg.

One more button, and she would lose him forever.

_He knows what he's doing, _she tried to convince herself, as she declined his offer for sugar cubes. _Fin's not stupid. He's the one who told me not to bite more than I can chew. He'll go in, outlast them all, and be rich._

She settled with watching him sucking on sugar cubes - a permanent part of his lunchbox, since she could remember - and couldn't help herself from noticing the change in him. He looked much happier, much more carefree, and braver.

Perhaps sugar cubes did do him magic.

As Annie took one and started sucking, too, Johanna let her mind wander to Sunday morning. This would be her - and Annie's - first Reaping. Her first time having her name there in the bowl, one slip among thousands. Her first time standing in that roped area, instead of at the back with her father and sisters. Their district's situation, The Academy and the strong volunteering culture, meant that she had a really small chance of going, even if it was her name they pulled out of that bowl. It shouldn't have been a concern to her.

Yet, because of Finnick, it was now a grave concern. What would she do if it was him Dorian wanted as volunteer this year? What would she do if he had to go into the Games and leave her with no one but Annie and their siblings as _true _friends? What would be if he went in and didn't survive?

Should she tell him to just bail out, and forsake what might happen?

That was suddenly all too hard. As the end-of-lunch-break bell rang, she made a mental note to spare some time alone in the woods later.

**- The - Guardian -**

She did spend some long hours in the woods that Friday afternoon. And a couple more on Saturday, as it all got too overwhelming and she didn't know what to do.

The strenuous axe-throwing left her with these satisfyingly aching arm muscles on Sunday morning, causing her to grimace as she reached backwards to pull up the zipper of her dress.

"Do you need help with that?" Katniss, who'd been sitting on her bed observing, offered.

"About time," she told her sister, secretly thanking the heavens for Katniss's help.

The yellow dress was a new thing their Papa had allowed them to splurge on. Floaty and simple, with this round neckline and fluttering sleeves, it was Prim's dream of a Reaping Dress Johanna had picked for exactly that reason. This dress would probably one day be Prim's first Reaping Dress too, judging how often they actually wore dresses. Oh, and Katniss's too, in between this year and Prim's first year of eligibility.

"Braid?" Katniss offered.

"No."

Saying no to her little sister, in the morning of The Reaping, didn't at all feel good. Yet, Johanna knew she wouldn't feel alright with saying yes. The only person who'd ever braided her hair was her Mama. She was determined not to let it change, because it was the only special thing she still shared with her mother.

"Okay," Katniss gave up, knowing that a no from Johanna was a final no. "I'll be downstairs with Prim and Papa."

"Coming with you," Johanna said quickly, trailing behind her sister. "We'll have to be at the wharf soon."

Katniss threw a look over her shoulder. For a moment, Johanna wondered if her sister had had something to say. But nothing came out, and Katniss soon turned away. Looked like she would never know. Oh, well. Katniss was always like that.

They walked into the living room, to the sight of Prim twirling - in the green dress which had previously been Katniss's - in front of their laughing father. It looked like a happy morning so far, a new dress and a happy baby sister - and a hearty breakfast - but how long was this going to last?

Johanna bit her lower lip and clenched her fists, as it dawned on her that one slip of a thousand was still one slip, and that there might not be any girl volunteer at all this year.

Katniss and their father were both too mesmerized with Prim's twirling that this escaped their notices - _luckily_. By the time the twirling stopped and the time to leave the house came, Johanna had reigned her emotions well enough to not show how scared she was.

"How can you be not scared?" Katniss prodded her, as they walked together to the docks. "I'm scared."

"Well," Johanna answered, ransacking her brain for a nice one. "I'm awesome."

Katniss rolled her eyes. And it made Johanna feel a lot better, for this might as well be a typical day.

The rows of houses passed quickly. Before Johanna knew, she was standing before this ridiculously huge ferry which would take them all to the mainland, right at the wharf with the entire Fire Island population.

"Jo!" a familiar little voice screamed. "Kat!"

Johanna only had a second to look for the source of that, before young Delly Mellark crashed right onto her.

"Careful, Dell," Peeta, who walked - _limped _- behind his sister, said. "You might fall off and hurt your favourite dress."

Delly was wearing this short-sleeved, wide-skirted blue dress which Johanna had seen several times throughout the last year. The Mellarks weren't buying their children new clothes this year.

Well, at least the two youngest. Finnick was nowhere to be seen at the moment, and so was their Dad.

"Where's your Dad?" Johanna blurted out, unable to stay quiet. "Where's Fin?"

"They left already," Peeta answered. "An hour ago. There was something to be taken care of."

The Volunteer announcement.

Johanna's heart sank, as she realized it had all happened.

"Come on, children," her father, who'd stood behind them all, quickly said. "Let's climb in."

Johanna nodded and did as asked, although her legs felt heavy. Even her Papa sounded scared and unsure. Would she be losing her friend this very day?

That was in her mind the whole ferry ride, that by the time they got to Mainland, she hadn't even said a single word.

"Don't be scared, Lady Knight," her Papa gently told her, as they moved with the crowd up to the District Square. "There's always hope."

That consolation didn't even sound like a consolation. There was something missing.

"Papa," Johanna said, stopping. She turned to her father and tugged on his sleeve, for a moment feeling like a small child. "I don't wanna do this. Let's go back home."

"It's mandatory, Johanna," Bram responded. He sounded a bit sad, but was unrelenting nevertheless. Johanna felt her hand being grasped and held firmly. He wasn't allowing her to go.

"Papa," she pleaded. "Please."

"You'll be alright," he told her. "One prick on the finger, half an hour behind the rope, and it'll all be over. We'll go have chips when you're done. Sounds good?"

Someone pushed them forward. A Peacekeeper, looking way more than a little impatient.

"Let's move," Bram decided, pulling Johanna forward. "They want us to be there soon."

There was no room to bargain after that. Johanna was ushered to the end of the registration line at the District Square, behind all those other kids in their best clothes. A Peacekeeper pulled her hand when she got to the desk, piercing it with some needled device. From her eye level, she could see her name and age appearing on the small screen above the needle. They now knew she was there in The Reaping.

"Next!"

That was the end of the registration. Feeling lost and small, Johanna followed the other Peacekeeper's direction and joined the crowd of twelve year old girls, standing alone at the back until some other kids stood behind her, pushing her forward to the middle.

"Welcome!" the voice of the blue-haired, stark-white escort boomed, some long-yet-short time later. "Happy Hunger Games!"

And that was the start of it.

They soon played the introductory video. Having attended twelve reapings so far and been alert for at least six of them, Johanna knew the first half of it was just the usual thing. Clips from the end of that first rebellion sixty five years ago, those from the first Games and of some famous Victors, interspersed with that of their _great _and _benevolent _President Coriolanus Snow - or at least, that was what they always campaigned. The second half was, too, something Johanna already saw. Bits and pieces of last year's Games, focusing on their Victor, that handsome boy from District One whose sister won the previous year. The end showed him spearing that one remaining tribute to victory, and smiling to the camera when his opponent's death cannon sounded. Johanna shivered. Even a year later, that sadistic smile still sent a chill down her spine.

"Well," their escort's voice boomed, as the screen went blank. "That was really something, wasn't it? I'm sure District Four can do much better, though!"

There was this nervous laugh in the audience. Something Johanna knew she just couldn't join. It wasn't funny. A thousand things about victory raced in her mind.

_Flashbacks of those Games she watched, where she saw the tributes killing each other._

_Uncle Haymitch's breakdown._

_Her Papa's remorse over her brother's volunteering._

_Finnick and his dream to buy Peeta a better leg._

Victory couldn't be what The Capitol always pictured it to be. There should be something untold there, like that secret hatred those few girls in her class harboured for her behind her back. She'd just started seeing recently that the world was full of secrets. What could this Capitol secrets be? Was it something her Uncle _actually _did whenever he was in The Capitol?

She shifted her gaze from the escort to the Victor lineup on their chairs. There was nothing she saw on them, except that little flicker of anger on Old Mags' face and Uncle Haymitch's sneering indifference. Even that Victor-trainer Dorian Waverider was stoic. Gone was all those campaigns of the glory of volunteering; this coldness and edgy secrets were the real deals.

"Alright, alright," the escort took over again, once the laughter died down. "That's the District Four spirit! Mighty seafarers you are all."

_Wrong, _Johanna thought. _Only Mainlanders are seafarers. Islanders are hunters by ancestry. The Capitol made us seafarers, but we are hunters at heart. They took away those islands we hunted at and made us breed oysters._

For a moment, she considered saying it out loud. Too much a time she took, though, for the escort had already called the mayor forward to read the Treaty of Treason before she could blurt it out. It was something she'd been taught all her life to be silent about, and thus silent she was, taking in the words of that treaty which she'd already memorized by heart.

_"In penance for their uprising," _The Mayor said, trying his best to sound important and exciting although to Johanna he just sounded like an impostor._ "each district shall offer up a male and a female between the ages of 12 and 18 at a public "reaping"." _

A male and a female. And the male tribute might be her friend Finnick.

"_These tributes shall be delivered to the custody of the Capitol."_

She knew whomever was pick would go to the Capitol. Yet, it still somehow gutted her. Finnick. Finnick. Finnick. What would he do in The Capitol? Would they all like him?

"_And then transferred to a public arena, where they will fight to the death until a lone victor remains. Henceforth and forevermore this pageant shall be known as The Hunger Games."_

Until a lone victor remained. Twenty three others to outlive.

Johanna's head pounded against her skull, so painfully it was really hard to keep her eyes open.

"Thank you, Lord Mayor," the escort's voice boomed again through that expensive, for-Games-purposes-only stereo. "Now, let's pick our tributes for this year!"

It was time. It was damn time.

Johanna watched in silence as the turquoise-haired, white-painted woman walked over to where the two Reaping Bowls were placed. The folded, white slips in the two fishbowls screamed to her from their place, so loud and disturbing she found her fingers crossing themselves in a prayer.

_Please, _she pleaded to anyone which might hear. _Please let the boy be an Academy Kid. And please let it not be Finnick._

She paused and glanced at the girls' bowl, before adding, _oh, and please let the girl not be Annie._

Those white fingers were now fumbling inside the girls' Reaping Ball, drawing a name from somewhere close to the bottom. Johanna held her breath. It was really happening.

"Elizabeth Shellshear!"

"Volunteer!"

She exhaled. She didn't know Elizabeth Shellshear, and she too didn't know the volunteer, who introduced herself as "Sheena Waverton, sixteen year old".

_I'm safe, _Johanna told herself. _If anything happens, I'll still have Annie to hang around with until next year._

The escort had now moved over to the boys' Reaping Ball. Holding in yet another breath, Johanna prayed hard that it would be someone from the academy, someone who wouldn't be volunteered for...

"Aidan Smith!"

All kind of hope in Johanna died that second. Aidan Smith was her neighbour, thirteen years old and not in The Academy. A boy would volunteer this year. She hoped...

"I volunteer."

Her heart dropped. There, in the middle of the aisle between the boys' roped area and that of the girls', stood Finnick.

She really wished she had said something.

* * *

**Thanks for reading everyone!**

**I hope that this chapter (and Part One in general) doesn't come out as too defence-less or too whiny. In all honesty, I wanted to make them all strong and mighty and mature, but it would be unrealistic considering the ages of the characters here (especially Johanna who is twelve going on thirteen). They all will age a bit in Part Two, though, so in a few weeks we'll see them all (those who survived, anyway ;)) getting stronger.**

**Next chapter will be out in a couple of days, so stay tuned! :)**


	8. Part I, Chapter VII

**AN: Thanks for reading, following, favouriting, kudo-ing, bookmarking, and subscribing, everyone! Special thanks to my reviewers: jc52185, Juliet's Shadow, axes tridents and snares, and Anla'shok. You're all awesome :).**

**Disclaimer: All belongs to Suzanne Collins. I'm just borrowing.**

**Edited: August 7, 2013**

* * *

**Part One: Children of The Islands**

**Chapter VII: The Promise**

"_I volunteer."_

Finnick's volunteering statement rang through Johanna's head, ringing painfully the whole time she watched him walking up to the stage. Dressed in a short-sleeved white shirt and a pair of light brown pants which looked new, he looked all grown-up and brave. But he was still her friend Finnick, bronze hair and twinkling eyes and crazy ideas and all. Watching him up there on the stage saddened her.

She blinked away two drops of stray tears as he stood tall and stoic before them all, his lips pursed and his eyes unwavering. Finnick. Finnick volunteering. All because of a stupid outing she'd suggested, something she couldn't even account for herself. Why didn't she say anything? Why didn't she try - _at all _- to talk her Papa into letting her volunteer, just to own up for her mistake? Why didn't she just ask her Uncle for a new leg for Peeta, and worry about Finnick's approval later?

Her fault. Her fault. Her fault.

Johanna Mason had sent what was perhaps her only friend to The 65th Hunger Games.

"What's your name, you handsome boy?" their escort asked, all enthusiastic and giddy.

"Finnick Odair."

There was not even the slightest tremble, not even the slightest hesitation in his voice.

"And how old are you?"

"Fourteen."

From where she stood, Johanna could hear everyone gasping. Right. Finnick was the youngest volunteer they'd ever had. The ones before him had always been sixteen or seventeen or eighteen, not even any single fifteen year old...

Some stray tears escaped her eyes again, as she realized no fourteen year old had won before.

The escort announced Sheena and Finnick, then made the two of them shake hands. And that was it, for this year's reaping. Johanna stood still on her spot, watching the Peacekeepers taking her first and best friend away into the Justice Building, where he would be kept for goodbyes until it was time to board that train.

**- The - Guardian - **

There was only one place she headed for afterwards. The room where they kept him, in their sandstone Justice Building.

There's already a queue forming in front of it, at the front of which are her father and sisters. Finnick's own father and little siblings must be inside there, saying their goodbyes.

Johanna's middle sister Katniss perked up when Johanna appeared at the back of the line. The younger girl had been keeping a close watch on the other end of the corridor, undoubtedly wondering where Johanna was. For a while, a temptation to run to something familiar rose in Johanna. She needed a hug, a reassurance that _she _would be fine.

But then, all those faces of Finnick's other visitors registered in her brain. The Academy kids. Those who didn't actually know him - at least, not as well as Johanna or Katniss or Prim or even Annie did. And she didn't like it. Why were they all there?

She decided to stay on her spot, waving Katniss a casual "no", in case those kids said bad things and made Finnick sad. She knew how to make him happy again.

The door to the room opened not long after, and out came Finnick's siblings. Just the two of them - Peeta and Delly. Their father must still be inside.

... or not. The Peacekeepers immediately pushed Johanna's family in and closed the door behind them.

Johanna's eyes darted to the resigned, somber blonde siblings.

"Your father," she hissed at them as they walked past her. "Where's he?"

Peeta couldn't even meet her eyes.

"I don't know," he answered, eyes fixed on his fake leg. "Dad said we should see Fin alone. I thought he was going to join the queue."

_He didn't want to see his son._

Pushing the horrendous thought away to the corner of her mind, Johanna turned to Delly. She needed it to not be true. Finnick didn't need that, not before...

Delly's quivering lips and tears immediately stopped her train of thoughts.

"Dad's still mad," she sobbed out. "Dad's still mad at Finnie, even if Finnie's gonna die!"

"Del," Peeta quickly cut in. "Let's go. We can't let Fin hear us."

"Yes, Kids," the burly Peacekeeper standing nearby interrupted. "Time for you to go. Go find your parents."

"Their mother's dead," Johanna found herself blurting out.

It surprised her, greatly, for she didn't at all plan that. It just came out on its own, alongside the clenched fists and the snarl she could feel the muscles on her face forming.

She was furious.

"Then go find your father," the Peacekeeper waved them off, rolling his eyes in annoyance. "This is a Justice Building, not a playground."

From the corner of her eyes, Johanna could see Peeta's eyes lingering on the shiny black rifle the Peacekeeper was carrying.

"Come on, Delly," the middle boy then said, grabbing his sister's small hand. "He's right. Dad must still be waiting somewhere."

Johanna didn't even have the chance to watch them walking away. The Peacekeeper had now turned to her, and - _of all things _ - smacked her bottom with his rifle.

"Move forward, Missy," he barked at her, as she stumbled forward onto the few-feet gap between her and the Academy boy before her. "You don't have forever."

Several heads turned towards her at that, some curious and some empathetic. Most of them soon turned back towards the closed door, though, quickly realizing it might be a bad idea to stare.

"You're Haymitch's niece, aren't you?" the boy in front of her - one of the few who were still looking on - asked her.

"Yep," she answered him. "What's with that?"

He looked her up and down.

"You should really join The Academy," he said casually. "You're built like a Victor."

"Over my dead body," Johanna sassed him out. "I never dream it, Sucker. Not like you."

"Hey," the boy frowned. "I was just offering! What's wrong with you?"

All heads were now on her. And she hated it all. For hell's sake, she didn't start all of that.

"Everything," she decided to play her final card. "Everything is wrong. Now, stay away."

Her family chose that very moment to exit, to her benefit. The boy immediately turned away, pretending that he didn't talk to her to start with.

"We'll see you outside," her father told her - hastily - as he and the younger girls passed her on their way out. "Be strong, for Finnick."

He was gone before she could nod.

The line soon dwindled, and dwindled, and dwindled. Finally, her turn came, and she was pushed in unceremoniously.

"Three minutes!" the Peacekeeper barked outside the door. "Train's leaving soon!"

Three minutes. So short a time.

She made no waste of it and straightened her back.

The green-painted room was full of comfortable-looking couches and other fancy things, but was seemingly devoid of Finnick. She looked around, panicking for a bit, before realizing he was merely standing before the window, taking in the view of their district.

"You stupid boy," she told him, as she ran into his open arms. "You stupid, stupid boy."

"I am," he forced out a laughter. "Damn this, Mason. I'm scared. What do I do when I have to kill?"

_Scared. _Even Finnick, who'd casually speared off that huge snake in the woods, was scared to kill.

How would he outlive them all, if he couldn't kill?

All the layers of strength around Johanna dissolved, leaving the child she actually was beneath it. She hugged her friend. And cried. And cried, even though it was him who was going and not her.

"Ssh, Mason!" he chided her, sounding half-hearted at this. "Don't cry! You're just making this harder."

"I can't!" she sobbed out, "I can't! Finnick! Don't go! I'll work to buy Peeta a leg or something! Just please, stay! I'm sorry!"

He pulled away at this, and knelt down - _Lord, how embarrassing it was, being suddenly much shorter than your best friend _- to meet her in the eyes.

"Johanna," he told her. "I'm here now. I can't not go - not without ruining things for everyone. But I can promise you I'll come back. Will that make you happy?"

She swallowed her tears, and thought about it for a bit. Alright. That sounded good.

"Okay," she finally relented. "Promise?"

He stuck out his pinky finger before she even did. And that's when she knew it was truly a promise.

"My uncle will help you," she told him, wiping her wet face on her sleeves. "He's mentoring this year. Just do what he says. He'll sort you out."

Finnick smiled at her - both amused and sad.

"I'll try," he said. "I'll be good this one time - for you, Mason."

It should have made her laugh. But, hell, it didn't. She just couldn't bring the laughter out of her.

"Just listen to my uncle," she repeated, eventually. "You'll live."

There was nothing said after that, except a quick goodbye. She followed the Peacekeepers without much fuss when they came to take her out. She didn't quite know what to do, but Finnick had promised. And her uncle Haymitch would be there for Finnick. Her uncle was strong and smart. He would be able to come up with something for Finnick, to give clues and score sponsorships, to help her best friend coming home alive.

"Door's out that way," the Peacekeeper showed her out, once they were back in the corridor. "Just go straight forward, and you'll be there."

"Thanks," she muttered, out of the courtesy her mother had instilled. She didn't need to be shown off, actually. She had a pretty good memory of routes and what she'd just done, of where she should go to find things. Walking down that corridor, she totally zoned out all the instructions and her own thoughts. Her eyes followed her feet through the shadows of the windows on the carpeted floor. One window. Two windows. Three windows. Four...

"Johanna!"

Wait. She knew that voice.

Turning towards it, she looked up and see who it was. Right. Annie. How could she not notice that the other girl hadn't yet said goodbye?

"Up there," she told Annie, pointing the direction she just came from. "Hurry. They thought I was last."

Annie nodded and made a dash past her, throwing her a grateful look. That wasn't what Johanna was paying attention to, though. The green-eyed girl had something dangling from her hand, something on a golden chain...

... right. How could Johanna have forgotten that Finnick would be allowed to carry something from his district into the Arena, as a "token"?

"Good thinking," she muttered, feeling a bit gutted that she had once more been usurped. "Nice."

Knowing that she'd missed her chance anyway, she continued her grumpy, defeated journey towards the front door of the Justice Building. It was wide open when she got there; a group of four Peacekeepers guarding it inside and outside. They took no double take as she passed by. She must have been not that much of a threat. Short and skinny, with big brown eyes and a yellow dress so cheerful it perfectly contrasted the bleak nature of the day.

... and hadn't she just stood there and complied as their fellow Peacekeeper smacked her bottom with that rifle?

One bloody idiot, she was.

Her murky thoughts soon roared again, filling her head as she climbed down the Justice Building steps. There, at the bottom, stood her father and sisters, talking to Uncle Haymitch. Perfect. She needed to bring up the matter of Finnick now.

"Here she is," said her uncle, as she came down to join them. "The Doll herself. Done saying goodbye to your lover, Doll?"

"He's not my lover," she snapped. Her uncle just loved to tease, and usually she didn't mind, but today, she was in no mood to deal with that. Her best friend had just volunteered for the Games, and there was this new girl who'd already beaten her in being the one friend Finnick wouldn't forget. There were already too much trouble for her, without her uncle's teasing.

"Got it, got it," Haymitch replied, smirking. "Just friends."

"Best friends," Katniss said, quiet yet firm. "Finnick is Jo-jo's best friend."

Sometimes, Johanna thought, and _just _sometimes, Katniss could be such a great ally and lifesaver.

"Yeah," she then decided to snatch the opportunity. "Best friends. And that's why you should ensure he's coming home."

Haymitch didn't respond to that. Instead, he threw this strange look at his brother, who looked back sadly at him.

"He's a good lad, 'Mitch," Bram said, patting his younger brother's arm. "Do what you need to do."

"Papa!" Johanna protested. "Uncle 'Mitch has to help Finnick win! He..."

"Your uncle will do his best, Johanna," her father cut. "Come on. Their train departs soon."

With that, he gently nudged the younger girls and roped an arm around Johanna's shoulders, taking the three of them away from the scene and their uncle who wouldn't even look at them as they walked away.

**- The - Guardian -**

Her father did fulfill his promise and bought her hot chips afterwards, even though Johanna was too gutted and too sad to properly enjoy the treat.

By the time they'd ferried back to Fire Island, though, the reality that Finnick was no longer with her hit in its full force, and gone was the gutted feeling. She was just sad. And guilty. And mad at herself for turning into yet another wimp of a girl who'd only ever say 'yes' to the boys she liked. For being selfish and failing to put Finnick's safety above her own need of his friendship.

All in all, it was gloomy.

And that was how she spent the next day. Waking up, doing her chores, feeling sad. Going in the ferry alone, feeling mad. Sitting at the back of the classroom, feeling sad. Spending lunch climbing up fences and things - in her skirt - feeling mad. Going back home, feeling sad. Helping her Papa in his herb shop, feeling sad. Cooking dinner, feeling sad.

And she was still sad and mad, when she sat down with her Papa and sisters to watch the recap of the Tribute Parade, with their dinners on their laps.

The Tribute Parade was the official Opening Event of The Hunger Games. Each year, the tributes' personal stylists would dress them up in costumes which supposedly represent their respective districts. They would then climb up these horse-drawn chariots, one for each district to a total of twelve, and be paraded on the streets of The Capitol, from where they were first kept when they arrived at the Training Center. At the end of this, the President would officially open The Hunger Games for the year, and the Training Week would begin.

"I hope it's not the fish costume," Katniss said, quiet yet strong, as the pre-parade commentaries and shoots of spectator-filled Capitol streets faded to an end. "Last year was just _terrible._"

The stylists had dressed their tributes last year in these ridiculous, scaly, fish-themed costumes. Katniss thought it was terrible, and so did Johanna - and everyone else they knew. It was just horrendous.

"Fish or not, he's still Finnick," their father reminded, sounding neutral though that spark in his eyes betrayed him. He, too, _hated _that fish costume.

"It's starting!" Prim chirped happily, lurching enthusiastically towards their screen. "That's One!"

On the screen was District One, dressed in tunics covered with gems and things like that. As the district which produced luxury goods, they'd always have these crazy shiny costumes, which Johanna had fantasized of one day wearing when she was a child. Next, came District Two in their armors, which Johanna was sure had nothing to do with their quarries and masonry industries. Then came District Three in their black, rectangular, unevenly-gold-sequinned costumes. Johanna saved pondering about what they were for later, as she crossed her fingers that Finnick's costume would be _decent _this year, that...

And here he came, next to that Sheena Waverton girl in their chariot, dressed in some kind of funny shirt and funny pants. There was something over one of his eyes, Johanna noticed. An _eyepatch_. She thought she knew what he was dressed as - _a Pirate_. Some of those books at the school library had pictures of these ancient sea-thugs, some with a hook in place of their left hands. A relief washed over her, as she felt her cheeks tightening in a smile. Finnick actually looked... _good._

"They look great," Prim commented, clapping enthusiastically. "They'll have lots and lots of _likers_ this year!"

"Fans," Katniss corrected gently. "Fans. Supporters."

"Yeah," Johanna added, half-mindlessly. "Sponsors."

It wasn't until Finnick disappeared from the screen and District Five entered that she fully realized what she'd just said. She'd just said, 'sponsors'. Lord. She was turning into one of those nasty Academy kids, the ones who'd always talked 'sponsors' and 'rankings' at school.

They paraded Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven, and lastly, the tributes from Twelve dressed as coal miners. Then, President Snow appeared on the screen and opened the Games. Glancing at her father, Johanna noticed Bram clenching his jaws and fists, like he'd been doing whenever The President was on the television ever since she could remember. Although her father never told her anything, Johanna knew he hated The President. And she didn't blame him, for she knew how cruel The President's regime had been on their island and their district.

"Finnick's there again," Bram suddenly said, without glancing away from the television.

Startled, Johanna shifted her gaze. Her father was right. Finnick was there. In a close up, looking nothing short of _proud _and _handsome _as he waved one last time to the audience before his chariot disappeared.

Finnick waving goodbye.

All other things forgotten, and she was sad again. She went to bed feeling sad that night, just like the previous night. It almost felt like losing her Mama again, missing something important she couldn't really pinpoint.

* * *

**Thanks for reading everyone. I realize this chapter is really emotionally intense and 'messy' (because Johanna's having a case of messy head there, with the shock of Finnick's Volunteering and the fact that he's 'gone' now), hope that wasn't too much. As usual, critiques and reviews are welcomed, though. I'm learning to be a better writer here, and that means learning to keep a clean, realistic plot and learning to keep characters real and consistent.**

**I should be posting the next chapter of this in a couple of days, since I'm now back at home. Till then, hope you have a good time!**


	9. Part I, Chapter VIII

**AN: **Thanks for reading everyone. And thanks to all who follow, favourite, give kudos, subscribe, and bookmark. Special thanks to my reviewers: Juliet's Shadow, axes tridents and snares, jc52185, and Anla'shok. I would like to especially thank Anla'shok for the good discussion about what would and would not be realistic regarding reactions to Finnick's volunteering. The previous two chapters (Part I, Chapter VI and Part I, Chapter VII) have been slightly edited to explore more on the reactions.

**Disclaimer: **all belongs to Suzanne Collins.

* * *

**Part One - Children of The Islands**

**Chapter Eight: Allies and Friends**

The sadness and anger drove Johanna crazy at the end.

"I can't go to school today, Papa," she told her father, the morning of that second day. "I don't feel great."

Her father looked up at her from the coffee table he was cleaning.

"Sad?" he asked her - with a sad smile of his own.

There was no use denying, and Johanna never lied to her Papa, so she nodded.

Her father stood up and hugged her tight, rubbing her back comfortingly as he rocked on the spot. It made things better, actually, for it was something she was used to since she was little. Something special her and her Papa shared.

"I'll write something to your school," he told her, some seconds later when she finally pulled away. "I have something for you to do, though. Peeta's leg isn't working well after Sunday, so he's been staying home. Could you go and spend your day with him?"

Spending the day with Peeta - another person who cared about Finnick - sounded much better than being at school by herself. Thus she agreed to that, and set off to the Mellarks' place once she'd put on her playing clothes and prepared Katniss for school, her rarely-used sketchpad and old pencils in hand. Maybe she and Peeta could sketch together.

The streets she usually passed whenever she went to pick Finnick up from his place was still the same streets, although walking through them didn't quite feel the same without the knowledge that Finnick was waiting on the other end. Sure, there was Peeta, and his ability to make everyone feel better in an instant, but he wasn't Finnick. Peeta wouldn't go around teasing her, he wasn't cruel enough. Peeta wouldn't go to the woods and wreak havoc just for the sake of it, he wasn't careless enough. Peeta wouldn't be able to tell her she was being a freak or being stupid, he would just say she had to think again about her ideas. Peeta was a nice companion, and she liked playing with him, but the bottomline was that he wasn't his brother. And it was his brother that Johanna really wanted.

And, for all heavens' sakes, wouldn't Peeta be disappointed at her? She was supposed to give him a leg, not let his brother go and buy him a leg. She should have known better than to be weak and compliant when she couldn't really justify the need for it.

She didn't actually feel excited when she got to the Mellarks' door, and took her sweet time ringing the bell. It didn't really matter. They would have the whole day to play, anyway. Which would be a long one - if Peeta decided to be mad at her or all sad.

The door creaked open a couple of minutes later, revealing Peeta - alone and dragging his troubled leg behind. Johanna bit her lip and held in all the screams she had for herself. It was all on her. She suggested the outing.

"Hi, Jo," he greeted her, with a polite smile and a curious look. "School off today?"

"No," she replied, taking the invitation to come in as he stepped back a bit. "I just can't go. I'm too..."

She paused, not knowing if it would be a good idea to tell the young boy the truth.

"Sad?" Peeta guessed.

She nodded, admitting half of the truth.

Peeta closed the door behind her, before admitting, "I'm sad, too."

They weren't that good as friends it felt awkward to hug, so Johanna settled for some mutual back pats. A sense of shame washed over her. Had it been her in Peeta's position, would she be able to forgive the person who crippled her and sent her older brother to The Hunger Games?

Perhaps she wouldn't be able to. Peeta was a really kind boy.

Maybe - and just maybe - she could redeem all her mistakes by being his friend.

"I made these big cookies," Peeta offered her, as she settled down on their kitchen table. "Wanna share one?"

She nodded, and took what was offered.

From there, time really flew. With Peeta, there were always things to talk about. Soon, she found herself distracted with the younger Mellark boy, drawing and talking random things and laughing at what each other was saying. There were only them kids in the house, and they lived it to the fullest - having cookies for lunch, feeling accomplished for doing that instead of eating those "healthy" stuff the adults always insisted they had. As the sun set down, and their day came to an end, Johanna felt more and more attached to this way of life. Not going to school, spending time with her best friend's nice brother, drawing and eating cookies... She wondered if that would have been her life, had she been born at The Capitol.

Or, if one day, she ended up a Victor.

"That's Dad and Delly," Peeta said, as the front door creaked open. "It's about the right time they arrive."

Startled, Johanna glanced at the clock. It was six o'clock - time for her to go home.

"I'll go home, then," she told him, picking up her drawings and her pencils. "It's dinnertime."

"Umm, Jo?" Peeta asked her, just as she stood up and got ready to leave the kitchen.

"Yes?" she asked back.

"Do you think we can raise some money to buy some food or water for Fin in the Arena?"

_Raise some money._

_Damn good idea._

"That's brilliant," she found herself praising the younger boy in awe, as she caught Reuben and Delly's silhouettes from the corner of her eyes. "We still have a few days before he goes into the Arena. Let's go work out a campaign."

She didn't know if Reuben had heard that, but the Mellark patriarch didn't offer her anything but a kind goodbye as she excused herself.

**- The - Guardian -**

That night, Johanna stayed up awake in her bed, plotting her fundraising scheme.

Being the daughter of a trader, she knew the rules of trade well. People were more likely to exchange money for something they wanted and liked, instead of merely giving others the money. The money one had would buy one something. The money one gave for free to others would buy _others _something. Unless one really had some money to spare, one wouldn't just give it to other people.

She had to come up with something brilliant and _cheap _to get, which she and Peeta could then sell for a higher price.

By the time her eyes finally closed themselves in a surrender to exhaustion, she'd had this long list of things to make in her head, which she was dead excited to share with Peeta as soon as she could.

**- The - Guardian -**

"Painted _seashells_?" Peeta asked her back with a frown, after she'd mentioned the idea to him.

They'd met up at the Mellarks' after school, and gone to that slopey stretch of beach nearby. They were now sitting on the sand, looking at the stretch of sea in front of them. It was Wednesday, the second day of the Training Week. The odds for all the twenty four tributes of this year's Games had been constantly published and updated. Those illegal bets had started in that black market in The Mainland, all going for Sheena Waverton and the strong-looking tributes from District Two. Finnick wasn't a favourite. At least in his own district.

She had to change this, if her best friend was to live.

"Yes," Johanna explained, playing her confidence up, "seashells. Painted with small pictures".

She was honestly a little scared of her idea's prospects, but unless she pitched it well, she knew it would never be. So, she pulled on her proverbial mask and pretended to be sure as hell, just to convince Peeta. Maybe some people would buy painted seashells. They would be nice decorations for the house. Or, they could string a thread through it and make necklaces, they would be pretty...

"Or, wait," Johanna revised her idea. "We can make necklaces instead. And bracelets, and other things."

The frown on Peeta's face diminished at that.

"I like that idea, actually," he said. "We can also make shell artworks. Like, paintings made of shell..."

"Holy moly, Mellark," Johanna cut in, in an absolute awe of Peeta's prowess of ideas. "That's one great idea."

The younger boy smiled at her.

"I'm glad you like it, Jo," he said.

There was a long pause, as he gathered himself in concentration and stood up on one real leg and one fake one. Johanna found herself drawing in a deep breath and looking away, when he wobbled and flailed around to rebalance. Peeta had been a strong boy all his life, until that accident happened. Now, he was limping and wobbling and having troubles walking. And it was all because of her.

"Let's gather the seashells," the younger boy said once he was finally stable enough to stand. "If we start today, we'll have many of them done by this Saturday. We can go to the Mainland or the markets and sell them around."

He offered his hand at this, as if afraid she wouldn't be able to pull herself up. A big mistake, in her eyes, for she was more than capable of doing so. But to turn Peeta down after what she'd done to him felt downright evil, thus taking his hand she did.

It felt like a big mistake at first, him wobbling backwards and her struggling to stand up and preventing him from falling. At the end, though, they managed. And laughed, because it was all so funny and so great.

"Let the shell collection...," he said playfully, imitating that Hunger Games announcer Claudius Templesmith, "... begin!"

They started their shell collections, treading the shallow waters and perusing the beach. As Peeta found a huge, white single shell and handed it to her as a gift, Johanna wondered if she could have asked for a better conspirator and friend. For a better little brother.

**- The - Guardian -**

The school lunch break on Thursday found Johanna crouched at the back of the classroom, threading a bracelet made of small, round seashells and some cheap elastic she bought from that shop in her island which sold _everything_.

Her old lunch box laid open next to her; her sandwich only half-eaten and the mango slices untouched. She couldn't care less about food, though. Or about the fact that her eyes were about to shut closed, unable to bear that drowsiness from staying up most of the night sorting seashells and punching small holes on them.

She just had to finish as many bracelets as possible, so that Peeta and her could sell as many as possible and gather as much money as possible before the Games started. How much would a piece of fruit be, in the Games? Two gold coins? If one bracelet sold for a quarter, they would need to sell eight to be able to send Finnick some fruit.

Well, at least if he didn't wind up dead in the bloodbath.

Just thinking about the bloodbath hurt Johanna's head. She knew no one could avoid it. The Gamemakers always placed the tributes in this circle or semi-circle around a golden horn they dubbed the Cornucopia, where all the weapons and supplies needed would be piled up. It would be stupid to not consider going there to grab a weapon or some dried food, though it would be equally stupid to go. There would be this huge fight there, which would end up killing about half of the tributes. Though the tributes who walked away had a better chance of surviving the first few days of the Games, sometimes there were crucial things one could only get from the Cornucopia, and these survivors would wound up dead. There was really no golden rule.

"Johanna?"

Irritated, she lifted up her head from her work. There, in front of her, stood Annie Cresta. The girl she hadn't talked to since Sunday, who'd also been... skipping school until today. And Johanna might knew why, now. There, under Annie's left eye, was a sizeable, fading bruise.

For a moment, Johanna forgot her bracelet and her fundraising scheme and her guilt. She'd heard quite a few rumour about that strange fisherman Cresta and his habit of hitting his daughter whenever he was lost in a bottle. However, she'd never experienced - or noticed - seeing the evidences first hand, until today.

Looked like it was all true.

"Hey," she found herself greeting her sort-of-friend back, feeling a little ashamed that she'd been too busy kicking herself in the head and not even given Annie a single thought since Sunday. "Did he hit you?"

Annie paled at this. Johanna watched the girl's eyes darting in panic, as if afraid someone would hear them.

"Yes," she finally whispered, sad yet frantic. "Don't tell anyone, though. Please."

"If you say," Johanna shrugged. "Just don't let him kill you, Annie. You're too good for that."

The words startled her the second they left her lips. Perhaps it was the drowsiness. Perhaps it was this entire weak feeling from watching Finnick walking into very possible death - when she could have hold him back. But, she'd just told Annie what she actually thought, and it made her feel stupid. How could she _like _the person she was supposed to be jealous of? Wasn't jealousy supposed to be like those public display of snide remarks those older girls made at their schoolyard?

Annie, though, smiled at that.

"I won't," the girl said, lowering herself - rather gingerly - down onto the floor next to Johanna. "I'm like a cat. I have nine lives."

She giggled at that, and it was so infectious Johanna almost followed suit. It didn't happen, though, at the end. Johanna managed to maintain her composure.

"What are you making?" Annie then probed, looking interestedly at the bracelet Johanna was threading.

Now that it'd been brought back to attention, Johanna suddenly remembered her work. The work she had to complete, _soon_.

"Seashell bracelet," she answered as she bowed back down to continue it. "I'm planning to make some and sell them to raise sponsorship money for Finnick. His brother is in this, too."

Annie stayed silent for a bit.

"Johanna," she finally said. "Do you know how much a big bottle of water would cost by the fourth day or so?"

"Five gold coins?" Johanna guessed, lifting her head wearily from her bracelet.

"As much as there were dead tributes," Annie corrected. "Times five, if we're in Final Eight already."

"Holy moly," Johanna groaned. Some hundred gold coins. Some hundred bracelets - and shell arts and other things - for a days' worth of water. Would there even be enough seashells on the beach for that?

At this rate, her brilliant plan wasn't going to work. Or, not-so-brilliant plan, really, for if she had been that brilliant, she wouldn't have let Finnick go.

"Yeah, I know," Annie said, sighing. "Holy moly."

They sat together in this uneasy silence afterwards, the bracelet abandoned on Johanna's lap. Johanna didn't know what to say. And so did Annie, apparently.

"We'll need to talk everyone into donating," Annie quietly said, a few minutes later. "Everyone in the district, just any change from anyone who would spare it. That might be able to buy something towards the end, when he'll need it the most."

"That sounds great," Johanna said. "Except, that wouldn't have been that easy. They all favour Sheena and the kids from Two. I bet they wouldn't want to give their money away for young, stupid Finnick..."

"There should be a way," Annie disagreed. "There should be a way to make them all listen. What can we say about Finnick, that would make them listen?"

Swallowing, Johanna looked at this new friend of hers.

"You say you want to _sell _Finnick?" she confirmed.

Annie pursed her lips in thoughts.

"If you put it so," she then said, looking conflicted but smiling nevertheless. "Make one of those commercial posters or things like that, give it away like those Capitol announcements... I'm not good at them, but you might be better."

"Oh, I'm crap," Johanna admitted, careless and carefree. "We can try, though."

She paused at that. _We. _What had she just done, inviting Little Miss Cresta into her fundraising? Inviting her _secret rival _into this special thing she shared with Finnick's little brother Peeta?

For some reason, it felt like admitting that Annie was too an important part of Finnick's life. Admitting that they were all _allies _in this. And she didn't quite like it.

But she'd said it out loud, and to take it back would be a crime to this girl she found impossible to hate. She had to carry on. She had to continue this alliance with Annie.

"The Academy is off during the Games, right?" she probed, lifting her gaze up.

Annie nodded. Inhaling, Johanna willed herself to cement the alliance, to make an important offer she wished she could just not make.

"Come with me to Fire Island after school," she said eventually. "We'll go see Finnick's brother Peeta."

* * *

**Thanks for reading everyone. Your thoughts will be much appreciated - good and bad, pretty and ugly.**

**Next chapter will be posted when it's ready - which will be pretty soon, I guess. I've got Part I pretty much written (spare final editing for the last few chapters), and am currently writing Part II and my other story 'A Tale of Two Districts' (which is much darker and much more mature in theme than this one).**

**See you pretty soon!**


	10. Part I, Chapter IX

**AN: **Thanks for reading everyone! Special thanks to my followers and favouriters, and many special thanks to my reviewers: jc52185, Juliet's Shadow, axes tridents and snares, and Anla'shok. You are all so awesome :).

**Disclaimer: **All belongs to Suzanne Collins. I hope I haven't angered her by twisting her beautiful story to this extent.

* * *

**Part One - Children of The Islands**

**Chapter Nine: A Loving Brother**

All their plan set, Johanna took Annie to the Mainland Piers once they finished school.

With just one look at her _ally_, she could already see that it was Annie's first time taking a ferry out to The Islands. And it didn't surprise her, even the slightest. Mainlanders did not generally visit The Islands. There was nothing they couldn't get in the Mainland that they could get in The Islands. The Mainland, though, had so many things The Islands didn't have. It was them Islanders who always had to travel across, not the other way around.

"You think I can be home by six thirty?" Annie asked, as they stood at the wharf waiting for the ferry to Johanna's Home Island. "I'll get in trouble otherwise."

"There's the five forty ferry from my Island," Johanna answered. "It'll get here at six fifteen."

Annie muttered a gentle 'alright', seemingly happy with the answer. Johanna couldn't help but feeling sorry for her ally, though. Getting into trouble for coming home late was something really common for them children and teenagers, but after seeing Annie's bruise, she had a feeling that the _trouble _Annie would face was way worse than the trouble most others would.

They stood there for a couple more minutes, silent for they had nothing more to talk about, until the ferry made its appearance. It wasn't the same one Johanna usually took to school; this was one of the public ferries. They could still ride for free, though, for everyone Reaping Age and under rode for free under District Four government's _generous _scheme.

"Don't let them make you pay," Johanna whispered in Annie's ear, as they joined the queue to board. "You're under nineteen. Under nineteens ride for free."

Annie gave a small nod. The warning wasn't actually necessary, though, for that filthy corrupted liar of a ticket officer let her pass without question once he saw whom she was with. He knew he didn't stand a chance against a frequent traveller.

The public ferry was this yellow-and-blue painted catamaran, mostly enclosed with a bit of an open area at the back. The floor was rarely washed and always either sticky or slippery, and today it was more of the latter than the former. Johanna tiptoed around and grabbed about any upright structures she could find, just to keep herself from slipping and falling backwards in her school skirt. Ahead of her, Annie seemed to be doing the same - only, slower. It was as if the Mainland girl was almost always too careful, too _soft_ for her own good.

Such an unlikely, unexpected volunteering candidate, that Annie Cresta.

"Grab the back seat," Johanna instructed the mousey girl, once they got far enough into the cabin. "It's the best spot."

Annie grabbed the said seat without questions, sliding onto the window seat. Finally able to move quicker, Johanna slipped right next to her somewhat-friend a couple of seconds later. They sat there in silence, until the ferry started moving, filling Annie's gentle, _scared _eyes with awe and excitement over their journey. It was as if this was her first journey on a boat.

"Have you ever been on a boat?" Johanna asked, unable to hold her tongue in.

"Of course," Annie answered, smiling - _at the waves, not at Johanna. _"My Mom sometimes took me with her."

"Oh," Johanna commented, shifting her gaze from the girl to the sea outside. "You look so excited I thought it's your first time."

"I haven't been out in the sea since my Mom left," Annie explained. There was no sadness in the tone, nor there was anger, and it scared Johanna a little that her somewhat-friend felt _nothing _about the matter. Annie's mother as frequent a gossip topic as her father was; a mysterious woman whose solution to a drinking wife-beater of a husband was to _run away on her own._

So much wariness remained, that Johanna made no attempt on further conversations throughout the remainder of their journey. It was only when they got off at the Fire Island docks that she opened her mouth again, explaining to Annie that they had to keep straight for a bit then turn right to get to the Mellarks'. Those turned out to be words wasted, at the end, for Annie actually _followed _every step she took. Glaring - over her shoulder - at the mousey dreamer, Johanna wondered what on earth she was getting into by befriending the confusing, unpredictable Annie Cresta.

"Annie," she finally spoke up, as the last intersection before the Mellarks' block came up. "Have you always been doing what people asked of you?"

A sudden halt. Looked like that question confused Annie, indeed.

"Why won't you?" the Mainland girl asked back. "It won't harm you. Well, most of the times."

Johanna pretended not to hear that, for that actually _scared _her.

They arrived at the Mellarks a couple of minutes later. Straight away, Johanna saw Peeta. Plopped down on the wooden front porch, a seashell in hand and many others piled on the floor, the Mellark boy was deep at work.

"Hey," she greeted him, as she got there to the porch. "I bring someone who knows stuff about sponsorship."

There was a little spark of something on Peeta's face, as he lifted up his head from this shell-mosaic he was gluing up on a piece of cardboard.

"Oh, hey," he said, upon seeing Annie. "You're Annie, right?"

"How do you know?" Annie asked back, looking a little confused.

"Fin talked about you," Peeta answered. "A lot."

_Fin. Talked. About. You. A. Lot._

Those words hit Johanna as hard as that first sight of Annie and Finnick _together_, giving her a realization that Finnick was indeed fond of Annie, more than he'd ever let on to Johanna.

_Not everything you see is what it is._

Those adults were indeed right.

She sat down on the porch, staring blankly at that vegetable patch in the front yard, at those leafy green stalks over the ground which she knew weren't the entirety of the potato plants they were. The conversation Peeta and Annie had around her seemed distant; she couldn't care for any of it right now. Finnick had lied to her. He'd indeed tried to hide Annie from her. What other secrets were going behind her back, really?

Finnick was indeed no longer that friend she knew. She had done everything to keep her friend, even letting him volunteer whilst she could have hold him back and kept him safe - but in reality, she had lost her friend. They had stopped being friends the moment Peeta was attacked by that damned shark mutt.

"So, Jo," Peeta startled her. "What's this information which Annie has?"

"Oh," Johanna answered, quickly turning towards her two companions. "She knows how the pricing of sponsor items work. Apparently, we won't make enough to buy Fin anything meaningful just by selling these seashell things. Or selling _any other thing_ we can make."

"Oh, no."

Peeta looked crestfallen, so crestfallen that Johanna actually felt _sad _for him. And damn, she was guilty again. Whose idea was seashells? Whose idea was trading?

Whose idea was outing to Mainland on a boat?

Once again, she was a destroyer. Destroyer of Peeta's hopes and dreams. Destroyer of everything Finnick knew.

And she was so hopeless she couldn't fix anything.

"You can ask everyone in the district to donate their spare coins, though," Annie butted in, right then. "You'll be able to make enough that way."

And sure, lifesaver Annie was. Peeta perked up again at that.

"How should we do it?" he asked.

_We._

Even Peeta thought Annie should be part of all of these. Annie. Annie. Annie. What did this weird girl have, that Johanna didn't?

Oh, right. Annie wasn't the one who had made mistake. It was all Johanna's mistake, Johanna's fault. She was just paying for it - for not being able to talk Finnick out of volunteering and just be safe.

Annie was the right, and Johanna was the wrong.

Johanna had never felt this useless, this angry at herself before.

"We'll need to tell them all good things about Finnick," she heard Annie saying. "We'll need to make them like him."

"Good things such as?"

_Such as_?

Johanna let out a loud mental groan, for surely Peeta wasn't that clueless about his own brother.

"How he's funny," she decided to start. "How he's smart. How he's strong, how good he is with those fishing spears."

"What a good friend he is," Annie added in, at the end. "How he's always..."

"Annie," Johanna cut impatiently. "I think they'll care more about how good he is, not how good a friend he is."

Annie fell silent at that.

"If you remember," she said, quietly, a couple of seconds later. "That boy from the Sixty First got lots of sponsorships because he volunteered for his friend. Friendship also seems to work."

_Volunteered for his friend._

With a strange rush in her blood, Johanna clicked her fingers. Maybe, there was a way to keep Finnick safe, after all. Maybe, he could live. Maybe, one day, Johanna could fully apologize and get him back.

"I have an idea," she told a bewildered Annie and a confused Peeta afterwards. "This is going to be awesome. Listen."

**- The - Guardian -**

Explaining the whole story about The Sunday Outing, Peeta's leg, and Finnick's real reason of volunteering didn't take quite that long. Within five minutes, Annie was on the same page Peeta and Johanna were on.

... without questions or any admirations, just nods and frowns and all.

Coming up with the campaign afterwards was easy. It was amazing how fast, how much one's brain would work when spurred, when prompted with a need to prove oneself useful. Johanna never assumed she would wound up remembering all those flatteries Caesar Flickerman and Claudius Templesmith used when describing those tributes from those previous Games. But heck, it all came back to her.

_Nobility. Earnestness. Moral. Strength. Agility. Taciturn._

Many more words flew around right then and there on that dull wooden porch, as the sun moved West and the day grew older. By the time Annie scrambled up and made that run towards the docks to catch that five forty five ferry, they had come up with what Johanna thought was a decent campaign.

That Friday saw Johanna - and Annie - going around the Mainland spreading those handwritten pieces of paper they'd worked on the whole night and in class when no one was looking. As Johanna jumped off that five o'clock ferry she took from the Mainland at the end of the day, she could also see the proof of Peeta's hard work spreading the words across Fire Island. Those lower school children - his classmates - were running around handing out these handwritten pieces of paper to anyone who would take them. A busy-looking, wiry redhead of a boy thrusted one into her hand as soon as she stepped off the wharf. She took it, just for fun, and saw all those words she'd been writing and spreading the whole day scrawled on there, in a handwriting she didn't recognize.

Peeta had gotten them more help.

A grin broke on Johanna's face as she made that run up towards the rows of houses. Right now, she couldn't get fast enough to the Mellarks'. A compliment was not something she dish out often - more so when it came to her own younger siblings or Finnick's - but today she just had to praise Peeta for his brilliance. If this went on, they could have way more campaign flyers than she thought they would have. She could spread those words outside the Mainland and Fire Island, to those people in the other islands. Papa's rowboat would do the job just fine for the nearby ones, those other ones, she could ferry to the Mainland then ferry again across to those. No. There wouldn't be enough time. She had to...

Her train of thoughts stopped, when she saw a familiar blonde figure limping ahead of her.

"Peeta!" she yelled for him. "Hey!"

He stopped on his track and turned around - with what looked like a great difficulty. Still, there was a genuine smile in his eyes, as he beamed at her and said, "hey, Jo."

Johanna strode over, closing the distance between them. Something else came into her view as she got closer. Blood. On Peeta's bad leg, right where the crude prosthetics met his stump.

"Your leg," she shot him straight right away, "it's bleeding."

"Yeah," Peeta said. "Too much walking. I'm going home now."

Too much walking.

Peeta used to be a strong boy, who could walk hours and hours and run around and climb.

Johanna closed her eyes, as it came to her - for the millionth time in these past few weeks - that it was all her fault.

"Let me take you home," she then offered, hauling Peeta's left arm over her shoulder. "Don't walk on that bad leg. Use your good one."

It took quite a bit of jumping and stumbling, but they finally got home to the Mellarks. Johanna straight away forced Peeta onto the living room couch, as she scrambled off to find some clean rag and boil some water. She needed to clean the wound up, to bandage it and get Peeta off that leg. He was a little brother, and she hated seeing him in pain like that.

"How's the fundraising going in Mainland?" Peeta attempted a small talk, as she came back with all her doctor-play equipments.

"Going alright," Johanna answered. Her eyes weren't on Peeta, though. It was on the prosthetics she was detaching, and on those bleeding blisters at the contact point. "I've got some donations already. Small money, but better than nothing. We'll get more tomorrow."

"I'm only getting five gold coins so far," Peeta said, sounding ashamed. "Spare changes is rare here."

"Oh, shut up," Johanna chided her friend. "Let me fix this leg first. Finnick's sponsorship..."

She trailed off at this, for truly the words betrayed her.

"... can wait for a bit."

Silence. There was only those splashing noises the rag made as Johanna dipped it in water and used it to clean up the blood, and those stifled groans Peeta made with each dab.

"Jo," the younger boy said, once the cleaning phase was over and he was coherent to speak again. "Why did Finnick feel that way?"

"As in?"

"Why did he think I need a new leg?"

Johanna exhaled.

"He wants you to walk again," she finally told Peeta. "He hated seeing you limping around."

She paused to drizzle a bit of antiseptic on the rag, before adding, softly, "I hate seeing that too."

The rag was snatched out of her hand at that, by Peeta, who then pressed the part where the antiseptic was, wary but unwavering, onto his blisters. Straight away, this painful yelp escaped his lips. Johanna shifted up the couch and put an arm around him in a bid to make him feel better.

"That's brave," she soothed him. "Peeta Mellark, you are no coward."

He tilted his head and laughed at her through his tears. And it broke her, so much that she had to turn away to hide her own tears. It was all unfair. Peeta was so nice, so kind, so _little_. Why did it have to be his leg?

Why did she have to plan that Sunday outing on that very day?

"Umm, Jo," Peeta snapped her out of her thoughts. "I'll need some help with the bandaging."

Nodding, she slid back down and knelt before him, bandaging that stump she'd seen so many times before. It now felt almost like a normal sight, and she hated herself for thinking that way. Finnick went and volunteered to give his brother a new leg. How could she think that a stump was _normal_?

"They'll announce the Training Scores tonight," Peeta said, once the bandage was on. "If Finnick gets a good one, we'll be able to raise more money."

This boy. Could he stop thinking about the damned fundraising, and think about himself just this once?

"Stop talking sponsorships," she chided him, for she could no longer take it. "I'll go get your Dad and your sister for you, but for now, just sit down here and rest."

With that, she stood up and left, beginning that long walk of shame, guilt, and contemplation to that short row of shops at the northern end of the settlement, where she knew she would find Reuben and Delly Mellark.

* * *

**Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think :).**


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